Anyplace You Are
by TourmalineTrue
Summary: Sequel to The Old Familiar Places. Six months later. Brian and Stewie in New York City. Domestic bliss...of sorts. FINISHED!
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so here's the sequel to The Old Familiar Places. Beware of slight plotlessness, as it's mostly a 'scenes from a relationship' kind of thing (although there *will* be a **_**smidgen **_**of conflict…), and sex stuff. **

**Synopsis: How are our boys faring, six months into living together in NYC? Let's find out together, shall we?**

**Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Family Guy.**

From across the restaurant, Stewart Gilligan Griffin espies his parents entering the establishment and talking to the maître d', and stands. This is the first time they've been to Manhattan to visit him and they are meeting for lunch. He adjusts the cuffs of his shirt sleeves and attempts to get a grip on himself, taking a deep, cleansing breath. _This is only your family, who you don't think much of, anyway. _They draw nearer to his table, and he smiles graciously, and sticks out his hand.

Peter uses it to pull him into a crushing hug. "Heya, Stu, buddy, how the heck have you been?"

Lois shrugs out of her coat and shoots an inquiring look at the empty seat next to Stewie.

"Is Brian in the restroom?"

"Uh, no. Brian couldn't come today," says Stewie. "He's back at the apartment sleeping-"

"-off a hangover?" Lois finishes his sentence for him in a cynical voice.

"Quite possibly," returns Stewie easily. "Although, if he has drunk more than he ought, it's only because he's been quite stressed in recent weeks. Really, he's cut down substantially in his intake of spirits since he's lived with me." He smirks a little as he says this.

Lois waits in vain for Peter to pull out her chair for her. When it becomes clear that he isn't about to- merely heaving his bulk onto a seat of his own- she sighs and plops down in the chair beside Stewie's, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Oh, he has, huh?" she asks doubtfully.

Stewie clears his throat and shakes out his napkin, placing it delicately in his lap. "Yes, he has, Mother," he says in a clipped voice.

From across the table, Peter wants to know, "What's he so stressed out about?"

Stewie signals for a nearby waiter to approach with the wine list. "Oh, the play, what else?" he replies, giving the short answer.

All three hold out their hands to receive the wine list, but Stewie manages to snatch it before his parents, and sits back in his chair to examine it, requesting the waiter give them a moment.

"Stu," Lois says quietly but reprovingly, "I think that seniority would dictate that you father should choose…"

"But since I mean to treat you both…," Stewie points out, "Anyway, he would probably select something comparable to urine fortified with a hint of Welch's finest." He looks up at Peter, who is picking at his teeth with the tines of his fork and paying them no mind. "Wouldn't you indeed, Father?" he asks more loudly.

"Huh? Oh, yeah, you betcha, Stu," says Peter dismissively. He pauses. "So how's Brian's play coming along, then? He must be pretty hard at work on it. And of course there's so much to do here in the Big Apple. No shortage of distractions for either of you. He hasn't called me in a good long while," he adds sort of sadly.

Stewie feels a little guilty, knowing (mystifying as it is) how much of a bond Brian and Peter used to have, and thinks that his folks have gone back home, he'll remind Brian to ring him up more often.

Just to torment Lois, though, he runs his finger around the rim of his water glass and remarks with a sly smile, "Oh, yes, I would say keep ourselves very occupied. I for one never found myself so frequently _tied down_, and I end practically every day, lying in bed, _exhausted_, just totally _spent_, but so…_satisfied. _You know, before, I moved here, I felt like there was this hole in me that just wasn't getting filled, but now…"

"Who wants bread?" Lois grits out, shoving the bread basket at her son and interrupting him. If she was a cartoon, she'd be shooting steam out of her ears, or perhaps some kind of fish, because she also looks a little green around the gills.

Peter swipes the bread basket from Stewie. "So you must be helping Brian out a lot on the play if it takes that much out of ya. I'm glad you're having fun, though."

Of the family, Peter is the only one out of the loop concerning the real nature of Brian and Stewie's relationship. Despite her threats (not that Stewie exactly feared the wrath of the Fat Man), Lois had never actually gotten around to revealing the 'sick, twisted truth' to him. Stewie suspects that she just doesn't know how, and/or she's holding out hope that the whole business will have gone kaput before long, and won't be worth mentioning.

________________________________________________________________________

Brian will often joke that his and Stewie's apartment is so small that you can't take two steps inside the front door without hitting the far wall. Which is obviously an exaggeration, though not a tremendous one.

The living room- into which Stewie now led his mother and father- is only about 8x12 ft. The doorway off to the right leads to the miniscule kitchen, with its peeling tiles in one corner that have had to be pinned down by thumbtacks and a dishwasher that will work only when it wants to. The other days, it floods the floor with soapy yet foul-smelling water.

Through the living to the left is a short hallway steeped in ugly orange carpeting. This hallway goes to the bathroom (which contains one of the few perks of the place: a charming, old fashioned claw foot tub) and at the end, beyond a sliding door, the bedroom.

Their landlady is a severe-looking middle-aged woman who wears too much Chanel no.5. When Stewie and Brian moved in six months ago, she was getting ready to leave on her honeymoon and told them that the phone number on her business card was no longer accurate.

"I'll get you the new one when I get back," she'd assured them.

They've still to hear back from her. The rent payments get sent to her office, attached with notes about the repairs that need to be done, but she never responds, and of course they can't call her.

Stewie once tried, convinced that she'd lied about changing the number so she didn't have to listen to her tenants' complaints.

He'd reached a -for some reason very angry- Turkish man. The only words Stewie'd been able to make out of the conversation were 'I _keel_ you!'

"Oh…" says Lois slowly, in a slightly higher-pitched-than-natural voice as she surveys the surroundings. "So this is…nice."

Stewie scowls and coughs uncomfortably. "Sit down and make yourselves at home. I'm just going to wake Brian up and tell him you're here. I'm sure he'll be glad he didn't have to miss seeing you after all."

He motions to the couch, a piece he found for a real bargain at a furniture surplus store and is rather proud of, as the deep green of it matches the trimming on the cream-colored (probably used to be white and the former tenant was a heavy smoker) living room walls exactly.

Brian is lying on the bed, but awake. He's got his back to the door, so he doesn't observe Stewie enter, nor hear him because he's wearing earbuds, the cords extending from them extending to his laptop. The screensaver plays as Brian skims through a magazine.

Stewie moves on tiptoe around the periphery of his frame of vision and reaches for the computer, cranking up the volume up as high as it'll go on Brian's music.

With a powerful start, Brian yelps and wheels to face him, pulling out the earbuds. "Stewie, what the hell?!"

"Come now, dearest," Stewie sing-songs. "It's not very polite to loaf about the bedroom and ignore the guests. Especially when they're _family_," he emphasizes.

Brian visibly winces. "You brought them back with you?"

"They wanted to come, so who was I to forbid them? Good God, won't you come out and visit with them, even for a minute? They're your family by choice after all, and mine by chance. I never thought I'd live to see the day when I'd be behaving more graciously toward them than you were." He smirks and perches on the edge of the bed, stroking Brian's hair imploringly.

"Stewie, I- it's fine when…but then you… I'm here with you and they're there and I forget and it's fine but here they are and, and…" Brian's tone has a panicky edge to it and he cuts himself off, evidently realizing he is making zero sense. He reaches up and pulls Stewie's hand down. He tries again. "The apartment is a mess," he says gravely, as if that settles it.

Stewie's eyes narrow into menacing little slits. "You did _not _just insult my housekeeping."

Brian merely sighs. A couple minutes pass by.

"You. Are. Getting. Up. Now," Stewie states, patience now run thin, and pushes at Brian's back, endeavoring to shove him bodily off the bed. "Lazy, discourteous mutt! Up, boy! Come on, up I say!"

"Stu, is Brian okay?" comes Lois's voice from down the hall in the living room, sounding concerned and yet also sort of leery, as though she suspects that her son can't even go to retrieve Brian without getting up to something unsavory with him.

Stewie folds his arms over his chest and glares at the other man. "Yes, Mother!" he calls back to her. "Right as rain! We'll be out in a moment!"

Brian groans but finally accepts defeat, lugging himself up off the bed. "She doesn't really want to see me. She hates me now. She thinks I corrupted you."

"Ha!" Stewie scoffs in dry amusement. "If I remember correctly, it was much the other way around. It took far too long to get in your pants, B-rye. The irony, of course is how now you can't get enough of it. But- I warn you!- those days are over if you don't march out there right now and make nice with the in-laws."

_To be continued…_

**Well, whadja think? Of course, this was more of an introductory chapter, but good so far? Review and let me know!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Family Guy.**

Brian walks on lead feet into the front room and stands leaning slighting against the T.V. stand, looking across anxiously at the visitors. "Hiya, guys," he says, endeavoring to quell the noise of his heart pounding in his ears. "Long time, no see."

"Hey, I'll say!" replies Peter happily, springing from the sofa much quicker than a man his size should be able to and embracing him. "What the hell's the deal, you son of a bitch? I haven't heard from you in donkey's years," he exaggerates, ribbing Brian in a friendly way. "Your fingers broken, you can't dial a phone?"

As Brian laughs and Peter thumps him on the back, he feels some of his unease drain out of him. "Yeah, I've just been busy I guess. I know that's no excuse."

Peter releases Brian and returns to the couch. Lois holds up a hand in greeting to the former dog. Her smile is congenial but doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"Brian! How nice to see you again."

The smile that Brian sends her way in response is very similar. "Likewise."

For several glaringly long moments, there is silence. Brian notices that Peter is studying him with an uncharacteristically thoughtful expression.

"Brian…you look different."

Brian sighs exasperatedly. "Peter, we've been over this. About twelve years ago, Stewie made this machine that turned me from a dog into-"

"No, that's not it," Peter insists, scratching his chin contemplatively. "Hmmm…did you get a haircut or something?"

Fingering his tresses, Brian chuckles a little. "No, I haven't, but maybe that's just it. It's gotten kinda long now…"

"You're glowing!" Peter suddenly squeals in a high, girlish voice, causing everyone to recoil. "My God, Brian- your cheeks! Touch your cheeks! You're _radiant! _You're…OH MY GOD, YOU'RE PREGNANT!" Stewie looks at his father. "What the hell is wrong with you?" he deadpans from next to Brian.

Brian smacks himself on the forehead. "Peter, I'm _not_ pregnant." He is, however, blushing pretty hard. He senses the warmth rush to color his complexion, so if Brian didn't really have a rosy glow before, he knows he must have one now.

"Is it just me, or is anybody else feeling snackish?" Stewie chirps good-humouredly. "I know- I'll coat some onions with cornflakes and bake them in the oven. They're a heart smart alternative to fried onion rings," he adds as he looks at his mother.

On his way out of the room, Stewie presses the palm of his hand to the base of Brian's spine- light, loving contact that the younger man probably didn't even think about, just offered automatically. Generally, they aren't a couple to be physically demonstrative in front of others, and what just happened was such a minor thing, after all, but Brian sees that Lois caught it, and Peter might have. Though neither senior Griffin gives any indication that they did, or that they found it unusual. Is Brian simply being paranoid?

A little later, when they are all enjoying their onion rings (Stewie alongside Brian on the loveseat and Brian frantically wondering if Peter will question how Stewie is so close to him that their thighs are almost touching), Lois abruptly announces,

"Well, boys, Peter and I have got some news!" She sounds excited.

"What is it?" asks Brian with genuine curiosity.

"Meg's pregnant!"

"Oh, well, gee that's terrific!" Brian cries, laughing. "You must be so thrilled- more grandkids! Stewie, isn't that great?" He nudges Stewie with his elbow.

"Hmm. Yes. Cheers," Stewie agrees, smiling vaguely and toasting with an onion ring.

"Her due date's in January," Lois informs them.

"And after that blessed event occurs," says Peter enthusiastically, "I'm looking forward to making a fortune from selling the first pics of the kid to the _Weekly World News. _Don't misunderstand me, I think Dean's a good guy and I like him loads, but it'll be a big story, the birth of the world's first troll baby!"

"Peter!" Lois admonishes, scowling heavily at her husband. To change the subject, she turns to Brian. "How's er, _Quotient of Bravery: The Musical _progressing?"

"Oh, well, I really don't know how the hell this thing is going to get pulled off!" Brian grouses, the words bursting forth with sudden feeling. "So, we've finally got the final draft of the script written, right? But now we've got this song for one part of it and the music's all wrong, and still Xan insists on using it, because the composer is his cousin! Not that I'm too happy with Xan right now anyway, because so far he's only paid me half of what he promised for the adaptation rights!" He raved.

Stewie sighs a little. "How many times do I have to tell you, Brian? Xan's good for the money, don't sweat it." He rises and starts taking everybody's empty plates.

Frowning, Brian complains, "You're always defending him."

Peter giggles. "You guys should hear yourselves, you sound like an old married couple!"

Brian breaks out into forced, nervy laughter. "Oh! Uh…yeah…uh, that's…that's funny! Hahahaha…" He observes Stewie, inches from the entrance to the kitchen, pause and his back stiffen at Brian's fake mirth and comment.

"Well," Brian goes on, coughing, "Not that I'm kicking you out or anything, but I've gotta be getting to the theatre pretty soon here, and I'm sure you guys don't want to be stuck driving back to Quahog at night…"

"Oh, well, actually Brian," Lois interrupts him, "We're in town until Tuesday. We thought we'd enjoy a long weekend in New York."

Before he can stop himself, before it can even register in his brain what's about to tumble out of his mouth, he blurts, "You can't stay here!"

Peter and Lois both look stricken, and sort of insulted. Stewie, who has just reentered the room, looks like he is trying not to laugh.

Though he does try to soften what Brian said:

"We only have the one bedroom," he explains apologetically, lips quirking.

Lois nods slowly. "That's fine, you two, we've already booked a room at a hotel. We've got stuff we want to do in the city," she puts in. "Other than bothering you. If we decide to come over, we'll give you a ring first."

Peter, however, appears even more befuddled than usual. "Only one bedroom? So Brian, how do you bring chicks home?"

"I uh, I don't," Brian answers truthfully, blinking.

Peter blinks back. "Oh."

________________________________________________________________________

That night, Brian is lying in bed. Stewie comes in from the hall after brushing his teeth in the bathroom and as he slides into Brian's arms as usual declares, "We should have a Halloween party."

Brian gives a sleepy snort and reaches over to switch off the bedside lamp. "Yeah, okay, Stewie."

The younger man squirms in the sudden dark, rubbing his chin against Brian's chest and insists, "No, I'm serious, Brian. We've been all work and no play lately, and I think that's a mistake. Come on, it'll be _fun_." He whines. It doesn't hurt that he accents his appeal to by slipping a hand down Brian's pajama bottoms.

Brian ignores the interested twitch in the part of his anatomy that Stewie gives a gliding caress and yanks the exploring hand out of his pants.

'All work and no play, huh?" he quips sardonically, his voice low. "This is hardly the time to raise such a suggestion. I'm exhausted, okay? Although I've got to say, I don't think it's great idea. The apartment's too small to hold enough guests, I'm too drained lately to even try to pull something like that together, and financially…well, we don't really have the resources to be wasting on frivolous things like parties." He pecks Stewie on the cheek and rolls over onto his other side.

He hears Stewie emit a frustrated _huff_. "I'll have you know that I've taken all that into consideration, Kenny Killjoy. And you're about to listen to me overcome all your objections!" His irate voice all at once goes sultry as he spoons against Brian and kisses the side of his neck. "First off, I _know_ our abode is…in a nutshell…more humble than would be preferred. That is why this soiree of ours will be held on the roof."

"The roof?…" Brian starts to say, but becomes distracted when Stewie's fingers creep between in a gap in his button-down sleep shirt and play with a nipple, which turns to a hard little pebble almost instantly.

"And secondly," Stewie continues, "I _know_ my man is worn out after a hard day's work on what will soon be one of the next great musicals of all time…" His breath is warm on Brian's neck. "And that's why _I'll _be playing party planner all by my lonesome. You won't have to lift a finger." He grabs one of Brian's hands and kisses the tip of each individual finger. A shiver shoots up Brian's spine.

"Stewie…" Brian says warningly, because honestly he doesn't want to somehow get inveigled into agreeing to this stupid party, but he's rapidly forgetting the reasons he didn't want to have sex tonight. In point of fact, they've gone without for three days now, and it's a bit of a dry spell for them. Oh right, he's tired. That was it.

Stewie rolls him over onto his back and straddles him, leaning forward and resting his weight on his forearms so that their erections meet. "Finally, don't forget that I have a job now and I get my first paycheck next week. We've already figured out that rent's covered, so my earnings can go for the party expenses."

Even in the dark bedroom, Brian can still see Stewie's smug grin. Or perhaps it's just that he's so familiar with it that he knows that it's there.

Sighing in pleasure as Stewie begins to undulate his hips, Brian manages to rasp, "Is your seducing me contingent on my saying yes to the Halloween party?"

Stewie laughs before he dips his head and kisses Brian deeply. When he pulls away, they are both panting. "Don't be a moron," he scoffs. "All you have to give me is a 'maybe'. I'm not going to sleep with a hard-on merely because you're such a, um…_wet blanket_." He finishes saucily, kissing Brian again.

_Screw tired, _thinks Brian.

As their lips part, he takes a hold of Stewie's shoulders and flips them so he himself is on top. "Okay. 'Maybe'," he growls, pinning Stewie to the mattress and leaning in close to ravish the younger man's neck with his mouth. "After all, all work and no play makes Johnny a dull boy."

Through a groan of pleasure, Stewie replies, "God, you're a douche."

_To be continued…_

**Reviews, good people?**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Family Guy.**

It is just after 1 o'clock in the afternoon the following day. Stewie returns home from a grocery run to see that Brian has at last pried himself from the bed and is out on the balcony smoking a cigarette, albeit in a robe and lounge pants. Stewie detours to the kitchen and lays the brown-papered parcels down on the countertop before going into the living room and climbing over the top of the loveseat to reach the French doors leading out onto the balcony. He raps on the glass to get Brian's attention.

The erstwhile animal turns and waves at him before stubbing the cig out on the ledge. He flings open the doors and pokes his head in to talk to the other man.

"Morning's started a little late for you, hmm Sunshine?" Stewie asks, scowling.

Brian runs a hand through his rumpled white-blond hair "Xan just called me; he wants to meet over at the theater at 3. I _have _actually done something since I got up: I did a load of laundry. Washed the _bed sheets._" He emphasizes.

Stewie only says, "Make yourself useful, Dog, and help me put the food away."

Brian tries to move past him into the apartment, but slips on the brick floor of the balcony in his slippers and collides with the side of the glass door. Stewie sniggers.

In the kitchen he asks, "You went to the laundry room in your housecoat and slippers?"

"Yeah," says Brian, with a little huff of laughter, stacking cans of vegetables in the cupboard. "So? I'm not like you, who has to check the mirror thirty times before you can even answer the door…I saw Mrs. Kincaid down there." He gives a sarcastic snort.

Mrs. Kincaid is their least favorite person in the building. Useful, in the very loosest of terms, merely for comic relief on the very odd occasion, she is a Fundamentalist Christian-type octogenarian who seems well-versed in all her neighbors comings and goings, work, romantic, and family affairs. She finds the two occupants of apartment 416- aka, Brian and Stewie- despicable, for their alternative lifestyle. Not everybody can guess that the two men are together-together (except, perhaps, for the fact that the names on their mailbox are B. Griffin and S. Griffin, and they don't look related. Maybe some assume they are really married.), but Mrs. Kincaid happened to witness a rare instance of Stewie kissing Brian in the hall. She doesn't always make a rude comment to them, although she has in the past, but the look on her face whenever she encounters one or both of them speaks volumes. They have a standing bet going to see how long it'll take before she actually throws holy water on them.

Mrs. Kincaid's husband is a different matter, a harmless old man with a gummy, buffoonish smile and a hunched back. He doesn't always remember folks he's already met several times before, or even what year it is, because he has a mild form of Alzheimer's. He walks with a cane, and sometimes when he's with his wife and she's frustrated at him, she'll take it from him and smack him with it.

"Ugh," says Stewie, making a face. "What did she do this time?"

Brian shrugs. "Nothing. She didn't even wanna be in the same room with me, it seems. She took her large-print crossword puzzle book and hobbled off. Leaving _me _alone with her laundry." He grins Stewie's favorite lopsided, wicked grin and disappears around the corner for an instant.

He returns hiding something behind his back and when he whips the object out to reveal it to Stewie, it happens to be some type of spandex shape wear undergarment. Stewie's features contort in disgust, but Brian beats him to the punch before he says anything.

"No, no, listen- I pilfered it from the dryer, so it's clean and all…but it seemed to be her best one, so she'll definitely be hacked off that it's missing. And…I don't know…," he holds the shape wear in his hands like a slingshot, pulling back on the material to make it stretch, "we can use it to lob water balloons off the balcony or something."

"Oh-_ho_! Frickin' _awesome_!" Stewie laughs.

Stewie makes them a quick lunch by putting some ziti, marinara sauce, cheese, and diced chicken into a casserole dish and shoving it into the oven. After they eat, Brian goes to get dressed and then sits on the couch with his script, going over it wearing a very solemn expression, with his eyebrows tightly knitted together, and occasionally highlighting some things. It's almost 2 p.m. now. The theatre is across town and Brian'll need to find a cab.

"I'll go to the theatre with you," says Stewie abruptly. He has no other plans for today, and he'd liked to be able to say that he is busy if his mother calls. Besides, he's supposed to be a 'consultant'- whatever that actually means, anyway- too, and he hasn't been of as much assistance as he could be lately on the musical. "We should leave pretty soon."

Brian gives a grunt in response, not diverting his attention from the marked script in front of him. He is gnawing on the tail end of the highlighter pen with about as much zeal as he had chewed on a bone when he was a dog. But it's clear he's irritated by the apparent lack of progress he's having with that one scene, and his frown doesn't lift for the next fifteen minutes they sit there not speaking.

Stewie heaves a stagy sigh and moves over to him, closing his hand over Brian's and (after a brief struggle, during which the script gets semi-crumpled, they both get marker on their cheeks, and Brian curses him to hell) succeeds in plucking the highlighter from his fingers. Stewie hoists himself onto Brian's lap.

"All the time I knew you growing up, your interest in your writing was…extremely sporadic, at best. I don't think I need to remind you how I used to hassle you about your novel…" Stewie has to smirk when he sees on Brian's face that the other man is hearing in his head '_So, uh, how you comin' on that novel?…'_

He goes on, "Now the muse hits you and you can't remember my name."

"Don't be ridiculous, _Stewie_. I could never forget the name of my tormentor for twenty-two years."

"You know, sometimes the more you revise something, the worse you make it."

Brian glowers at him.

"Just sayin'," Stewie adds, shrugging. "But anyway, this has got to stop. I congratulate you on finally applying yourself properly to something, but you're becoming obsessed." Stewie reaches out, the pads of his fingers gently ghosting over the dark circles beneath Brian's eyes. "I thought we'd gotten rid of these for good," he murmurs.

Brian smiles at him wryly, his lips looking so tight and dry that Stewie just has to moisten them with a kiss. Then he kisses Brian's closed eyelids.

Tender moment over, he pulls himself off of Brian's lap, rights his attire, and clears his throat. "Come on, we're going to be late to meet Xan."

________________________________________________________________________

Few people win Stewart Gilligan Griffin's approval as fast as Xan Reynolds did.

From the beginning, he's been the most good-humored person Stewie thinks he's met in his life, including Brian. Because although Brian always goes out of his way to come across as charming to everybody, he also exudes something of an air of that says 'I am enlightened and you are not'. Perhaps that was partially what appealed to Stewie about Brian in the first place, but Xan's attitude seemed to declare "I like you already'. So people instinctively liked him.

Then again, Xan would have poor reason to put on any supercilious demeanor, as he is kind of an idiot.

Terribly gorgeous, though.

He is settled next to Brian in the plush red seats of the audience in the small theater his father's procured for the show. Stewie sits directly behind Brian in the next row, watching over his shoulder as he and Xan have a civil disagreement over the sheet music for a number in the second act. The only other member of Xan's team present today is the accompanist- Allan? Andrew?- at his stool by the piano, steadily getting drunk.

"Listen, Xan, no offense to you or your cousin, but this music just doesn't work. It fits in with the context of the story, but it doesn't add anything to it," Brian is saying, and Stewie, tired of being left out of the conversation, casually slings an arm over Brian's shoulder, reading the notes on the paper the two men hold between them, and humming them aloud. He pauses to consider.

"Oh, I don't know about that, Brian, I think the music would work just fine if you upped the tempo. Made it…_bouncier_."

"'_Bouncier'_? Stewie, in this scene the soldiers are marching toward a battle they believe they can't possibly win. The mood is supposed to be grim."

"Right, right," replies Stewie glibly. "I mean, far be for me to overestimate the intelligence of the general populace, but it's been done." He laughs a little. "War is bad. I think the audience will _get that_, Brian, without you having to hammer the point through their skulls with such depressing music. I say we go for…irony. Tongue in cheek"

"I _love_ that!" Xan cries instantly, looking alive and alert in his seat.

With that vote of confidence, Stewie begins to puff his chest out. "Of course, we'll be needing lyrics…" he muses.

"Words?" Brian repeats, incredulous. "This song is all instrumentals." As if that can't be changed. Stewie doesn't understand the sudden borderline antagonistic sheen in Brian's eyes. Doesn't the dog want his musical to be a success?

In the next moment, Stewie is bounding up the steps to the stage.

"Let's see…a little something like this?"

He starts singing in a loud clear (and cheerful) tenor, to tune of _Road to Rhode Island:_

"_We trudge cross the bleak unknown landscape_

_The worst effing day of our lives_

_We can't escape the death sentence that's placed above our heads_

_The battlefields tomorrow will be streaked-with our blood- red_

_We trudge cross the bleak unknown landscape_

_No pretending that this isn't dire_

_To place our trust in comrades whom we've not known for very long_

_I dare you, sir!_

_To say our valor isn't great though our numbers be not strong_

_Our enemies will crush us into the ground, but_

_Like every patriot soldier, we're all war-bound!_

As soon as he finishes, the accompanist who'd been slouched silently at the piano breaks out into ecstatic applause. Xan gives Stewie a standing ovation, grinning broadly. Stewie bestows upon them both a gloating smile as he bows ostentatiously. As he arches upward from bending at the knees, arms spread out on either side, his eyes fall on Brian, whose arms are crossed fixedly over his upper body, fuming.

_To be continued…_

**It's my birthday in a few days and reviews make a nice gift! ;)**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'd like to extend my heartfelt apologies, dear readers, this chapter was supposed to go up this past weekend, but thanks to me having the world's most unreliable internet connection *shakes fist in rage* At least we're good to go now, though. So without further ado, here's chapter four…**

**Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Family Guy**.

After their appointment with Xan at the theatre, the two Griffin men go for dinner at a Chinese restaurant and at no point does Brian let on that a bad mood in simmering underneath his amicable exterior, and that Stewie sincerely piqued him by hijacking his and Xan's brainstorming session. _Starting scenes in public is more Stewie's forte, anyway, _Brian thinks bitterly, stabbing at his sweet and sour pork. His mate seems more than content letting the ex-dog ride out his foul temper in silence while the ginger-haired young man pursues his own uninterrupted monologue about what B.S. it is that Matthew McConaughey received some type of lifetime achievement award (not to say that Brian doesn't agree with him 110%, but he's not presently interested in sharing a moment of like-mindedness).

Brian, is, however, at heart, a rational fellow. Almost to a fault, he's been told before. And Stewie didn't done anything so egregiously offensive today, of that Brian is well aware. It's just that Brian had been striving for such a long time to fix that song in the second act, and then Stewie had only to come in a make a suggestion, and the whole thing was settled. Of course it suited Xan's original vision of _Quotient of Bravery _as satire (something Brian's never supported) absolutely, and no one cared if the author of the novel the material was adapted from liked it or not.

Aside from artistic differences, though, there is another thing that has been chafing Brian's nerves raw. For several months now, he has had to face a strange reality. That of being jealous of Stewie's affections.

Oddly enough, Stewie's more or less cool when he catches Brian eyeballing a hot chick. He even likes to tease him about it, saying things like, "Oh, like you'd even have a _chance _with her!. (Though, if Stewie ever felt really threatened, Brian is positive his sometimes-near-maniacal live-in love would be livid.) But there are apparently animalistic traits of Brian's that have carried over to his human form: namely, territoriality. On occasion, it was all he could do not to lunge at Xan Reynolds with his teeth bared.

Because Brian doesn't know if Stewie has a 'type', but he'd be willing to bet that if so, Xan is it, with his classic good looks and insipid smile. How else to explain the first time they met, when Xan and Stewie immediately got along like a house on fire? Stewie, as a rule, never took to people right off the bat. For all that Xan (who is gay as the day is long- _not that it would make any difference if he was straight_, Brian thinks a little hysterically. _Stewie's managed to hook at least one hetero before, anyway._) claims to be in a committed relationship himself, Brian doesn't trust the guy.

Brian would scarcely admit it at the time, but he was relieved when a couple months ago, Stewie got a 9-5 job that left him seldom at liberty to go to the theatre and flirt around with Xan…Oops. Rather, _to work on the musical. _This relief might've been all the more pronounced since news that Stewie got the job came one day after he and Xan had dined out together…and didn't tell Brian about it until later.

Whereupon, Brian had bit his tongue and tried to be rational.

Back at the apartment, Stewie sits on the bed with an events planning magazine and tries to engage Brian's interest in it.

"You see, you see here, Brian?" he asks, pointing a finger at a particular D.I.Y. project. "This glittery spider centerpiece? I'm thinking of making our arachnid friend here as my 'plan 2' if I can't get that floral arrangement I found online with the dangling crystal skeletons on time."

Brian is still not sold on this spooky shindig. "Mmhm," he mutters, bored. "Plan B. That's…" he yawns, "…that's great."

"Plan 2," Stewie corrects him, returning to studying the magazine intently.

Brian is on his way out of the room. He sighs. This is _not_ going to become another Stewie-ism speech-thing, so help him God. "Who says 'Plan 2', Stewie? It's Plan B."

Stewie glances up at him, arching a delicate eyebrow. "_I_ do," he says simply.

The other man rolls his eyes and lightly smacks his hand against his own cheek, shaking his head tiredly, as his gut heats in anger. "Fine, Stewie, whatever. Have Plan B2 if you want."

"'B2'," Stewie repeats, suddenly regarding him like he's crazy. "The hell is that?"

"Forget it," grumbles Brian, leaving to go watch T.V. in the living room as Stewie falls back on the bed with his magazine.

________________________________________________________________________

He awakens on the sofa several hours later to find that he's slept through the news. Not even bothering to brush his teeth or toss on pajamas, he strips to his boxers and makes his way to the bedroom.

Stewie is asleep under the covers and Brian gets on the bed, curling himself around him, an arm around his chest and knee wedged in between his legs. He kisses Stewie softly on the back of his neck and falls asleep for a second time.

________________________________________________________________________

The next day is Sunday and passes in a fairly normal and pleasant vein until Brian gets a call from Peter asking him to go to a baseball game with him. So Brian informs Stewie, who has just entered the room, that he'll be going out for awhile.

"Have fun," the younger man offers blithely. "Although I must say, I thought you'd be keen to avoid my parents whilst they're in New York, judging from your reaction to me bringing them around the other day."

"That was only at first," Brian says in a somewhat defensive voice. "I'm friends with Peter. Truth be told, I've missed hanging out with him. I don't think I realized how much until two days ago."

Stewie snorts. "Now, there's a friendship I'll never understand."

Brian, either, but he still frowns. "Regardless."

Stewie draws close to him, wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "What? I'm not fun enough for you?" His voice is mostly teasing, and yet Brian imagines he discerns a part of it that is not.

As the younger man disentangles himself from their embrace, Brian raises a suggestion for him. "Well, um, here's a thought, if you, uh…think you're going to be bored today. Peter said Lois was going to stay behind at the hotel, and I kind of got that idea that she didn't like him going because she had nothing to do herself, and, erm…"

Stewie plainly anticipates what he is going to say. "Oho ho, _oh no_!" he exclaims angrily, waving his arms in front of in an 'X' motion like a referee. "No, Dog. Just no."

"Well, why not?!" Brian cries, his pitch rising concurrently with his annoyance. In some vague, shadowy part of his consciousness he probably realizes that he is still carrying some residual anger at Stewie for the previous day, but really, the younger man is just being so unreasonable. "She's just sitting there all alone-"

"And that's my problem how?!" Stewie shouts, raking a hand through his unruly auburn locks agitatedly.

"Because she's your mother and you should care!" Brian cringes inwardly after making the remark. It's a flimsy argument for sure, because when has Stewie ever behaved fairly toward Lois? It's almost comical. Though, well…he's no longer eagerly awaiting her demise (and better yet not plotting it himself), and that _must_ deserve some credit, right? _Thank you, Stewie, for outgrowing your penchant for mother-murdering schemes._

Stewie snaps back, "Brian, what's the deal here? You want me to be bestest friends with my _mummy_?"

"Yeah right, I'm not stupid enough to believe that _that's _ever going to happen," Brian retorts. "But you need to start thinking of people other than yourself."

He thinks he hears Stewie mumble something about him being a hypocrite.

"Excuse me?" he demands, in as calm a tone as he can muster.

"I'll bet that you didn't even know it's our anniversary tomorrow."

"Huh? Wha-what're you…" Brian sputters at the abrupt turn in the conversation, "What…_kind_ of an anniversary?"

"Our. Six. Month. Anniversary," said Stewie, starchly pissed off with his hands on his slim hips, his words coming out clipped.

_Six months. _According to the calendar, that's no doubt correct, yet that amount of time seems off. For the life of him, Brian can't say if it should be less or more. Sometimes it still feels so brand-new, and at others like they've lived a lifetime this way. In a good way. Being friends, and in love, and screwing and fighting.

Ruminating on this, it would've been a terribly romantic thing (for them) to say, and most definitely preferably to what Brian, in his infinite wisdom _does_ blurt out. But then he's been caught in the age-old trap of a man forgetting an important date that his partner remembered, and being confronted with it, so like so many men, Brian suffers a instance of temporary insanity.

"Six month anniversary of _what? _The night you drunkenly declared yourself and attacked me, or any of the various succeeding nights that you kept throwing yourself at me until I gave in?"

He sees Stewie's arms go limp at the same time his legs appear to stiffen, knee caps locking and something passes behind those normally-mocking eyes that for a half-seconds, Brian sees all the fragility of the child in Stewie that he never completely lost, and feels like he just kicked a puppy. Which maybe shouldn't bother Brian so much, since Stewie _did_ actually kick him- and worse!- when _he _was a dog.

"_Oh," _says Stewie in a voice that teems with suppressed indignation and Brian feels guilty. "_Oh. _Well, you know what, _sweetheart,_ I think I _will_ go pick up Lois now. She can go shopping with me for supplies for the HALLOWEEN PARTY!" He screams the last part, stomping toward the door and collecting his coat from the hook beside it.

"We're not _having_ a Halloween party!" Brian fires back, just to clarify. He'd only told the little turd maybe, after all.

"The hell we aren't, asshole!" Stewie yells, and storms out.

As he stands there looking at the closed door, Brian has an awful feeling that Stewie considers their anniversary the night that the former dog said 'I love you' back.

_______________________________________________________________________

"Jeez, Brian, what's your problem?" Peter wants to know, noticing Brian's moroseness as they get out of the cab at the Yankee Stadium and walk along the sidewalk.

Brian sighs. "Oh, nothing. I-I just got into a bit of a thing with Stewie."

"_Pfft!"_ scoffs Peter. " Well, that's nothing new. Stu argues with everybody. And the two of you together used to be like oil and water. It beats me how you've managed to be roommates for this long without doing each other in. Oh, well, it's not worth getting all bent out of shape about."

"Yeah…" agrees Brian quiet, keeping his eyes on his feet as they shuffle toward the stadium entrance**.**

_To be continued…_


	5. Chapter 5

**Warning: Smut in this chapter. How graphic? Well, I don't know yet, I'm writing this warning before I've written the scene it warns about :P. So we'll see how brave I am…or ya know, just what seems too tasteless. But anyways, yeah, oral sex ahead. **

**Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Family Guy.**

Stewie's shopping excursion with his mother has accomplished jack squat.

It has stretched on for hours, it is now after 7 p.m. and Stewie is starving; however, nary the smallest sack containing only a few black and orange streamers is clutched in Stewie's hand.

Lois had been overjoyed when her son had shown up at the hotel and asked her to go along with him and help pick out provisions for the party. Though all day she's somehow managed to drag Stewie into stores offering every sort of item besides what Stewie will need for his Halloween festivities.

Oh, well, the store they are just coming out of _did_ sell tableware that could have come in handy, but Lois kept pulling him away from it to give verdicts on the various clothing she was trying on.

Stewie reminds himself to give her a break, though. _After all, Quahog isn't exactly the fashion capital of the world. Seeing all these stores probably dazzles her. And the Fat Man isn't always loose with the purse strings when it comes to Lois, so at least now she gets to look._

"It's getting kinda cold out," Lois observes, her breath a visible puff of air floating in front of her mouth.

Stewie shakes his head, though he concurs and quickens his pace. "It's brisk. Invigorating," he insists stubbornly, walking on.

Lois is breathing a little hard as she tries to keep up with him. "Wait!" she cries, seizing his elbow, and Stewie sighs and slows down, matching his steps to hers.

Tucking her arm into his and patting his hand fondly, Lois says, "There. That's better." Stewie's eyes flit to the side and catch the motherly warmth in hers, so poetically at odds with the frigid air around them. He hates this day. He hates that he hates it worse now because of Lois but he is a essentially a good son and thus checks his compulsion to tell her she's free to go to hell if she wants to warm up so badly.

Instead, he presses her hand and asks if she would like to go back to the hotel.

"Or get something to eat?" he adds, his stomach rumbling in support of the idea.

He grants Lois the benefit of the doubt that she didn't hear it when she responds, "Oh no, I'm not tired enough to go back yet. And your father promised me we could out somewhere fancy tonight for dinner. I'm not giving him an excuse to welsh on our deal, no siree bob. Let's just pop into one or two more shops, shall we?" She is steering him toward a boutique-y place Stewie's never been to before. From the window displays, it seems to sell merchandise that is of very-limited appeal. At least, it seems unlikely to sell party supplies.

Stewie grinds his teeth and attempts a joke. "It's times like these you must be happy that you have a gay son, huh? Almost like getting in a little girl-time with the daughter you never had."

________________________________________________________________________

Lois is examining a snake skin handbag. Stewie thinks that Brian would disapprove of it. He's lately been on kind of an animal rights kick. He hasn't gone so far as turning vegetarian (he can't quit the red meat habit attributed to his previously canine form), but he is now strongly against products made from animal furs and hides.

Stewie mentions this, to which Lois smiles tautly but makes no comment.

"We had a fight today," Stewie says without thinking, than clamps his hands over his mouth in irritation with himself. He feels like he shouldn't say anything negative about his relationship with Brian to his mother, because of the _Schadenfreude_ she'll probably get out of it. It's not healthy, but then, little about their family is.

He laughs. "But of course that's no big thing. We _will _have our little spats. Why, just last week, Brian got angry with me for wanting to buy these shoes on EBAY. They were the very pair that Mr. Big wore in the first _Sex and the City _movie, but try telling that to _him_! Anyway, I got so upset that I threw a plate at his head. Ah, but we mended it. Our…uh, disagreement, not the plate."

Lois merely stares at him, then puts the purse back. "It's way out of my price range anyway. I don't know how you can afford to live in New York."

"He so far refuses to get me a cat, too."

"Stewie, we haven't tried Bloomingdales yet, why don't we…"

"No, Lois, why don't we try a goddamned party supply store!" Stewie suddenly explodes. "Jesus, woman, I was doing you a favor, getting you out of that hotel, on the condition that you were aware that I had an errand to run, and all we've ended up doing is looking at crap for _you_! You must be the most selfish mother in the history of the universe, you know that?" With that, he flees the store, Lois right behind him.

They stop on the sidewalk outside.

"Stu!" Lois exclaims, eyes growing large with surprise. She lays a comforting hand on his shoulder, which Stewie immediately shrugs off. "What on earth is it, baby?"

"Nothing," Stewie mutters darkly. "Everything's fucking fan-frickin'-tabulous."

There is silence for a long beat. Lois regards him worriedly, but almost…cunningly now, too. "Stu…" she begins slowly, "is it something to do with Brian?"

She sounds so gallingly confident that she's discovered the crux of the matter. Stewie is nearly quivering with fury.

"We're happy together, goddamn it, why can't you understand!?" Stewie shouts, reaching the limit of his tolerance for his mother. "What is about that miniscule brain of yours that refuses to…to…" He leaves off, spluttering, then continues in a different vein: "This is the best relationship I've ever been in! It's the best relationship _he's_ ever been in! I've given this to him! Me! I've made him…"

"Stu," his mother interjects, her voice gentle. "Stop. Please, just-just listen to me for a second…" She takes his arm again as they head off down the sidewalk, looking around her with a slight blush coloring her face. Stewie knows she is wondering how many people heard his outburst, and is wondering what they made of it, but the streets are crowded with people all doing their own thing and not paying them any attention at all.

"…I think there are some things you don't understand about Brian," Lois continues. "It's hard for him to bond. He gets into relationships thinking they're going to provide him with some sort of deliverance, some great escape. He's a very sweet guy, but not everybody gets to see how selfish he can be, too. Don't get me wrong, I love him as dearly as a family member, but…"

Wrenching his arm away, Stewie interposes by saying brusquely, "You don't. Or else you wouldn't be slandering him to my face. You know, Mother, he didn't want to see you the other day, because he believes that you _hate _him now. _I _told him he was being foolish, but now I see that he-"

"He wasn't right," Lois objects quietly. "I just wish he hadn't made you love him this much."

At the next corner, Lois stops beneath the street light and looks at him as though she's doctor about to tell him that he has cancer.

"I don't know _what_ he was thinking when he got involved with you," she says. "And I'm sure he would never intentionally hurt you…but Brian's in this relationship because right now he sees you as the vehicle to get to where he thinks he's supposed to be next. You are his current stop on the road to self-actualization. At this point in time, he needs you. But once the experiment is over…"

A bus is driving past and on the side of it is an ad for a dating service featuring a picture of a gorgeous, scantily-clad woman. Lois points at it.

"Brian's ferociously heterosexual, Stu, and _that's_ what he's going to want."

They cross the street and halfway down the next block Stewie realizes that they are standing in front of his apartment building. He turns to his mother, eyes blazing with a fiery anger that matches the conflagration of indignation and betrayal raging within him.

"You just resent the fact that he doesn't want you anymore. He was infatuated with you for years, but you lost him to somebody younger and better for him! Oh, yes, I've got _your_ number,Lois, and I'll thank you to get over yourself and leave us be!"

He deserts Lois there alone on the street in the encroaching dark to hail her own taxi and speedily mounts the steps of his building and runs into the lobby.

Brian is there, checking their mail, over by the row of boxes. He is holding a bag from the burger joint around the corner. Stewie's entrance garners his notice, his eyes taking in the younger man's agitated appearance instantly.

"Stewie?" he says uncertainly, approaching him and touching him on shoulder. "What's up?"

Stewie ignores the question. "You just got back, huh? How was the game?"

Now Brian becomes evasive. "I don't know…" he says, blushing.

"You don't know? What do you mean you don't know?"

Just then, Mrs. Kincaid shuffles into the lobby, her trembling, liver-spotted hands struggling to fit the key into her own mailbox lock. She glances over at Brian and Stewie, still rather close together, her wizened old face puckering as though she's just eaten an especially sour lemon. Hand going to the crucifix she wears about her neck at all times, she mutters something spiteful under her breath.

"Perchance you'd benefit from a little sodomy yourself, Mrs. Kincaid!" Stewie calls across the hall to her in a malevolent voice. "Yeah, just take that cane of your husband's- you know, the one you use to inflict spousal abuse upon him- and SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS! Might make you a little less uppity!"

The old lady utters the loudest gasp Stewie has ever heard, her eyeballs bulging in disbelief as she scurries right on out of that lobby. Stewie is amazed she makes it without keeling over dead at the horror of his words.

Brian, for his part, has his jaw practically on the floor. Stewie coolly takes the bag of food from him and strides toward the elevator. Eventually, he can sense the other man follow at his heels.

_______________________________________________________________________

"I cannot abide that woman!"

"There's no helping it, Stewie," says Brian. "Old people like that, they're set in their ways. Mrs. Kincaid-"

"I wasn't talking about her!" the auburn-haired younger man shouts. "I meant Lois!" He seizes a hamburger from the bag and plops down at the counter (they eat at the kitchen counter on bar stools since there's no space in the apartment for a table and chairs), taking a savage bite out of it.

"Oh," Brian says, taking out his own burger and chuckling. Chuckling!

"Oh, I'm sorry, is that funny?" Stewie hisses around another mouthful of beef. "I guess it must be, right, because this is standard Stewie Griffin being deliberately stroppy about Lois! Oh, no, there's no way that _she_ did anything wrong tonight, is there? She's always perfectly charming! At least you think, so, _hmmm,_ Brian?"

He endeavors to glare at the dog-turned-man, but is suddenly distracted by how delicious his hamburger is, and what's more, he suspects he's used up all his arsenal of hostility for today.

_Jesus, have _I _mellowed lately!_

"I never said that," replies Brian simply. His eyes hold a great amount of concern for his love and Stewie resents having to look at them, because that naked caring all at once makes him want to cry. "Lois is quite often less than charming." He pauses while he chews, then asks, "'Stroppy'?" "Look it up."

"Sounds English. You know, not only were you inexplicably born with an English accent, you seem to pick up on a lot of the lingo, too."

For awhile there is silence.

"So…" says Brian awkwardly. "find…er, anything good? Good…party stuff?"

"I thought we weren't having a party," Stewie replies tiredly. "Make up your mind."

Brian shrugs, grinning weakly. "I didn't assume you'd think my permission counted for much."

"Hmph. There might be hope for you yet," Stewie quips in lethargic response. He crumples up his hamburger wrapper and tosses it in the wastepaper basket. "God, why were you being such a cunt earlier, Brian?"

"Wha-I wasn't! I mean…I was." Brian trashes his wrapper, as well. He sighs and lays his head down upon the counter atop his folded arms. "I don't know why…I just…" his voice trails off.

Stewie makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat at Brian's inarticulacy and stomps out of the room.

He goes into the bedroom and sits down on the edge of the bedspread. He hears Brian's footsteps padding softly down the hall and soon the other man is standing in the doorway.

"Stewie… I know I was totally out of line earlier," Brian concedes, his voice intensely apologetic. "I hate seeing you look like this. I'm really sorry about those terrible things I said, okay? They were lies, anyway. You didn't need to throw yourself at me, I was more than receptive."

Stewie can only nod. He feels as though he might cry otherwise and he won't be able to stand it if he does. It's not something he's done in front of Brian since he was an infant.

He blames Lois entirely for his current vulnerable state. She has put his mind into a whirl.

"Tomorrow for our sixth month anniversary," Brian adds, "we can do whatever you want to." He moves to sit next to Stewie on the bed.

Stewie locks eyes with him for a moment. He swallows hard and throws his arms around Brian's neck in a hug.

"Thank you," he manages, his breath ruffling the elongated white blond hair curling around Brian's ear. "That will be nice. I'll take you up on that offer." He sighs a little raggedly. "Lord knows it wasn't our first fight."

He is speaking more to himself than to Brian, but he feels the other man's body quake with laughter, causing Stewie to smile, too. Pulling back with semi-feigned ease, he requests, "Tell me you love me, Brian."

"Stewie, I love you. You know I do." He leans forward and passionately kisses him.

After the liplock ends, Stewie looks at him and smiles softly, reaching out and cupping his chin in his hand, pulling Brian in for another kiss.

"Yes, I know," he concurs, caressing the other man's cheek, skimming a thumb across Brian's lips. He gives a playfully arrogant sniff. "Of course you do. It's so painfully obvious you could never convince me otherwise."

Brian laughs lightly, still looking at him adoringly. "I should hope not."

They sit in silence for awhile, but Brian continues to stare, in an almost conniving manner at Stewie. It prompts the younger to finally ask, "What?"

Brian hesitates, then the corner of his mouth twists upward. He starts to slowly move the hand that is on Stewie's thigh up and down, stroking it sensually. He kisses Stewie's cheek and whispers into his ear, "Open your legs a little wider for me, Stewie."

A shudder runs through Stewie at Brian's low, insinuating tone. What can he do but comply with the request? He's not sure when it happened, but he is half-hard already.

Shooting Brian a quizzical but willing expression, he moves his knees farther apart, then asks, unable to distinguish his love's intentions, "Should I…lie back?"

"Hmm, no, you're fine as you are," Brian replies in a hum. He kisses Stewie again, simultaneously moving his hand into the younger man's lap and squeezing his wood briefly, making Stewie gasp into the kiss. Pulling back, Brian smirks at Stewie before sliding off the bed…

Onto his knees.

Stewie gasps once more, genuinely, his eyes going as round as saucers.

Throughout their six months together, this is something that Brian's never done for him. To be fair, Stewie's never asked for it; he's been more than content with the physical side of their relationship. Brian's the giver when it comes to actual sex, and _he's _the giver when it comes to…this. And they both excel at what they do.

But if Brian wants to try this now, no way is Stewie going to stop him.

The blonde's fingers linger, poised above Stewie's zipper, not quite touching the bulge in his jeans, and it's all Stewie can do not to thrust up to make contact.

Brian looks up into Stewie's eyes, suddenly pink in the cheeks and looking quite adorably sheepish. "Um, I'm never done this before, so I won't be as good as you, but…"

Stewie snorts, reaching a hand down to gently tousle Brian's hair as he scoots his way more between his spread knees.

"You won't dissatisfy me, I promise you."

Brian nods and abruptly breaks eye contact. His fingers lower Stewie's fly, and the younger man lifts his hips slightly to aid Brian in pushing his pants down enough. The underwear follows, Brian careful to pull the waistband forward a bit so it avoids catching on Stewie's erection.

"Just do what you like to have done to yoursel-ELF!" The final word of Stewie's sentences fractures and then ends on a yelp as he feels warm breath dancing over his manhood, then the tip being sucked into blissful, hot wetness.

Brian's hand wraps around the base of him, his mouth sliding down an inch further.

"Fuck," Stewie mutters.

Much to his dismay, Brian pulls off completely and responds, "Not yet. Maybe later."

Stewie's scowls at him and pushes at his head. "Get back down there!"

Obviously, Brian is _not _skillful, but intent overrides finesse in this case. He can't take more than four inches, and he doesn't get to work up a very good rhythm but at least there's no accidentally nipping Stewie's shaft with his teeth. And Brian makes his mouth so moist and tight, it's difficult for Stewie to refrain from viciously trying to shove himself all the way in. He remembers his manners, though, and doesn't. He closes his eyes and bites the side of his own hand to stifle his whimpers. Brian's hands make their way around to Stewie's lower back.

In the end, Stewie is almost embarrassed by how quickly he goes off, his gut tightening as he shrieks around the hand pressed between his lips.

While he continues to ride out his wave of pleasure, he's dimly aware of Brian tucking him back into his clothing and coming to sit next to him on the bed. Recovering his breath after a minute, Stewie looks over at Brian, who has a bit of white in the corner of his mouth. Incited by a ridiculous stab of sudden self-consciousness, he gently wipes it off.

Brian is blushing, too. He clears his throat.

"So…erm, I'm guessing that was…adequate?"

Stewie drops his head to Brian's shoulder and kisses the ex-dog's neck. "I'll say. More than. Good, um, job. Now we have to find something fun for you…"

Their earlier discord is utterly forgotten.

_To be continued…_

**Oh, God. I have never posted anything like that before. O.O **

**Eep.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Past the halfway point with the completion of this chapter. Thanks for all the really great reviews so far!!! The only downside is they put the pressure on me to keep making this good for you guys! (But I can live with that downside! :D)**

**Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Family Guy.**

"_Oomph. _Stewie, what the hell?! Ow, get off, you're on my arm!" Brian scoots back toward the headboard on his ass, struggling to sit up and cracking noggins with Stewie rather hard. He cries out in pain and Stewie swears at him and moves in such a way that he transfers even more of his weight onto the arm of Brian's he's resting on.

It is a rude awakening to say the least.

"What in _God's name _are you doing?!" Brian exclaims, giving Stewie a rough shove to the side. "_Move!_" His voice is still groggy from sleep. He clears his throat and glares at the younger man in bed with him.

"_Don't!" _whines Stewie, his eyes boring holes into Brian in return. He reaches a hand behind him to massage his own butt. "I'm still a little sore." Giving Brian a look that plainly communicates that this is all his fault. As though Stewie hadn't been an entirely game participant in last night's love fest.

"The doorbell rang, mutt, didn't you hear it? I got on the intercom to ask who it was, and it was my parents, so I told them they couldn't come up. I was still kind of sleepy heading back to the bedroom and I forgot this blasted bed takes up nearly the whole goddamn room. I ran into the side of it and fell on top of you."

"Peter and Lois?" Brian yelps, his gaze flying toward the doorway, like (despite the fact that Stewie's just told him that he sent them away) Peter and Lois will be standing there, looking aghast at him in bed with their son, who is wearing an absurdly short little robe, and he, Brian, as naked as the day he was born.

Well, not quite. The day he was born he had fur, so it was hardly indecent…

"I gave them the excuse that I was feeling under the weather," Stewie sighs, letting his head drop onto Brian's shoulder. "Precisely the same as I shall submit to my workplace when I call in in, oh…about half an hour."

"Mm…playing hooky, are you?" mumbles Brian, resting his chin atop the other's head. He closes his eyes, intent on drifting back off into dreamland. Stewie starts laying small kisses on his neck, producing a small hum of contentment from the ex-canine until suddenly, Stewie gives a particularly harsh nip to the soft skin and hisses,

"Have you forgotten your promise to me, Brian? In what was no doubt an act of gratitude for me sticking with your mangy behind for an entire half year, you offered to go along with whatever I wanted to do today. And none of my plans involve you asleep."

________________________________________________________________________

Brian draws a beleaguered hand across his forehead, perspiring despite the cool weather, and panting as he falls into one of the chairs on the outdoor patio of the café.

"P-please, Stewie…" pant, wheeze, "no-no more. I'm wiped. I'm gonna…" deep breath, "pass out."

Stewie huffs, righting the shopping bags Brian had haphazardly let drop to the ground. He stands over the former dog with his arms crossed. "Oh, fine," he pouts. "A pathetic show of fortitude on your behalf, though, Dog. Now stay here, I'll go order us our coffee."

Brian recuperates his breath and rubs at his hands, where the handles of the numerous bags he'd been carrying dug into his palms. Stewie reemerges from inside the café clutching their cups of steaming hot beverages and they sit there sipping them in the crisp autumn air.

"How am I always the reluctant accomplice to your schemes?" complains Brian in woeful tones. "I disapprove of them from the beginning and yet, invariably, I wind up getting suckered into them." He indicates the many parcels at their feet. "Look! I went shopping for a party I don't even want to be throwing, I paid through the teeth for all this crap, and now _I'm_ the one lugging it home!"

Stewie only takes a long swallow of coffee, his expression gloating.

________________________________________________________________________

They go home. Stewie fixes them lunch. They watch _That's Entertainment._

They make out on the couch for awhile before Brian remembers, "Hey, I got you a present!" And he disentangles himself from Stewie and scrambles off the sofa to go get it.

Stewie shoots upright, his massive eyes alighting with immediate interest. "Really? You did? What is it?" His voice childishly eager, causing Brian to chuckle fondly.

The dog-turned-man rushes to the bedroom and takes a wrapped package from where he hid it in the bottom of the closet. He excitedly returns to the living room and places the gift before Stewie.

"When did you have time for this?" Stewie questions, fingers hovering above the beautifully tied ribbon before he starts to undo it. "You'd forgotten we even _had_ an anniversary coming up."

"Hehe, I did," Brian acknowledges, scratching the back of his becoming-a-trifle-shaggy head. Stewie is removing the wrapping paper from the box with almost surgeon-like precision, sliding his fingernails up under the strips of tape and then slowly pulling open each fold. It's a bit fascinating to watch, but Brian is also anxious for Stewie to see what the gift itself is, and then start lavishing Brian with thanks.

"Why…it's…it's…"

"After the game yesterday, I was wandering around downtown and found this for you. I brought it back here and hid it in the closet and then I went around the corner to pick up dinner. When I returned, that's when we met in the lobby."

"It's my poetry book!" exclaims Stewie, gazing at the beautiful, expensive leather-bound volume with surprised delight. He sits it down gently on the coffee table and gets to his feet, beaming. "Oh, what a beyond lovely gesture!" Planting a smooch on Brian's lips and locking his arms around his love's neck. "Thank you, B-rye!"

They sink onto the sofa together again.

"But you know," Stewie begins, "I did think perchance that you'd acquiesce to my request for a little kitty cat…" He trails off meaningfully and Brian groans.

It's not so much that Brian especially dislikes cat. Even as a dog, he was more tolerant toward them than the majority of his canine brethren. But he can't say that he cares for them in general, either. It's not exactly like he can't wait to scoop feline shit from a box.

It's something he's been putting off.

"I've been thinking of names…" persists Stewie.

The phone chooses that moment to ring, and Brian is relieved. He fairly bounds over to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Brian? Hi, it's Lois. I'm just calling to check whether Stu's feeling any better."

"Huh? He was…oh! Oh, I mean, yeah, he-he's much better now."

"That's great!" Lois enthuses, "I mean, it's the start of flu season and I know that Stu doesn't always like to get his shot, because needles sort of give him the heebie-jeebies…"

Brian can't help but snigger.

"So I was wondering, since it's Peter and I's last night in town and all…would you two want to join us for dinner? If Stu's up to it, of course."

________________________________________________________________________

Brian nearly falls over when Stewie agrees to go. Granted, he only consents after Brian reveals what he had planned for their meal alternatively; he proposes ordering Indian food and "having a nice, quiet night in"- while he does yet some more rewriting on the script for the musical. Even though he would like to see Peter and Lois (more so Peter, these days) one more time before they go.

And he will get to, because Stewie strictly forbids Brian to work on their anniversary, and declares that they might as well go to dinner with his parental units.

Walking down the hall, Brian pauses in front of the open bathroom door and watches Stewie getting ready.

Stewie is standing before the sink, looking intently into the mirror above it…putting on makeup?!

"Oh, my god," Brian says in a deadpan voice. "What the _hell_ are you doing?"

Stewie whirls around and narrows his eyes at Brian. He is holding in one hand a little pot of cosmetic, and on the index finger of his other hand is a smudge of flesh-colored goop. "What? I have a zit. It's concealer," he says stuffily.

"Ohhoho…_Christ," _Brian chokes out, doubling over in laughter. "So what, you're like a transvestite now, too?"

"Not exactly," Stewie growls, still glaring at him. "I mean, I did have this one fantasy involving silk stockings and a bustier, but I've been putting it off because I was afraid I'd remind you too much of Lois. I didn't want you to be thinking about her while we were…you know." The corner of his mouth twitches up into an approximation of a smile, but Brian can't quite tell whether or not he's teasing.

Best to avoid this subject altogether.

"Well, it turns out going out with you isn't too different from going out with a woman, anyway," he jokes slyly, inclining his head toward the hand that clutches the container of concealer.

"Except I respond a heck of a lot better to logic," returns Stewie, going back to applying his makeup.

"Yeeeaaahhh," says Brian slowly, rolling his eyes as he continues on his way down the hall to the bedroom. "That's debatable."

________________________________________________________________________

_Stewie and Lois's argument must have been a doozy, _Brian thinks to himself as he watches the interchange between mother and son as they greet each other at the restaurant. _Although Lois _does _sort of act guilty, and like she was in the wrong._ He sighs internally. He knows Lois still doesn't quite approve of him for her son, but he holds on to hope that'll change someday.

_Hopefully someday soon…_

Stewie permits Lois to hug him, but doesn't return the embrace. Peter has brought a comic book in with him and is focused on that. After Lois releases Stewie's stiff from, she stands there awkwardly for a moment. Then she gives kind of a forced giggle and pats Stewie's stomach, asking Brian with an attempt at playfulness,

"Don't you feed my boy, Brian? Why, he's just like a rail! Just as skinny as ever!"

"Brian doesn't cook!" Stewie scoffs, catching his mate's eye and pointing imperiously at the booth behind them, indicating that he should slide into the booth first. Brian rolls his eyes but obeys. "You ought to know that, Mother. And I eat plenty. I just work it off. Via rigorous physical exertion." Now he throws Brian a theatrical wink.

Brian sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose hard.

Peter slips into the booth across from him. "Hey there, sports fan. _Not_," he says with faux accusation. "Yeesh, this guy was paying absolutely zero attention to the game yesterday, you know that, Stu?" He looks over at his son. "Whadju do to him to make him so upset, threaten to torch his back issues of _Artsy Fartsy Liberal Wackjob Magazine?_"

Stewie glowers at his father, but Brian, who knows the young man better than anyone, sees the curl of lip and glint in his eye that says that he is pleased to know Brian was supposedly such a wreck after their quarrel.

The one-time dog frowns. He hadn't been _that_ distracted. He could have told anyone who asked who won. It's not like he's a huge baseball nut to begin with, though he can appreciate the atmosphere of a public sporting event.

"Just go back to reading your comic book, there," says Stewie derisively to Peter.

To which he replies, "Nah, that's okay. It pretty much sucks, anyway. I got it for free when I went to the doctor about my shins…."

Brian takes the comic from him and reads the title out loud: "_The Terrible Dr. Tibia Vs. the Tribunal of Trekkies." _The cover features a cartoon of a leg bone wearing glasses and a lab coat squaring off against a bunch of nerds wearing Spock ears and uniforms reminiscent of those worn in _Star Trek_.

Lois shakes her head. "Peter has too much weight on his shins," she discloses.

Stewie snorts and says under his breath, "Yeah right, Lois. And you're such a waif. Ever heard of Spanx? They've only been on the market for about a zillion years."

________________________________________________________________________

The dinner passes quietly, blessedly peacefully, and surprisingly pleasantly. At some point, Brian gets up to take a bathroom break.

Brian is zipping up at the urinal when Peter comes in, slightly drunk, practically shitting himself (okay, bad metaphor) in his eagerness to tell Brian a joke.

"So the air force recruiter says, 'but your brother's a pilot', and the hillbilly says, 'well, he can't pile it if I don't chop it!' Hahahahaha!"

As they're coming out of the bathroom, Brian, who's walking in front of Peter, collides with a woman and just about knocks her off balance. He hastily puts his hands on her shoulders to steady her.

"I'm so sorry!" he exclaims, letting her go and trying to make eye contact. "Are you alright?"

She meets his gaze, blinking her gorgeous, thickly-lashed eyes at him. She giggles and assures him she's fine. Brian gives her an appreciative once-over. Her eyes aren't the only thing about her that are gorgeous; she has an angel's face and the build of a supermodel.

His cheeks pinken and he stutters a bit when he says, "Haha…g-glad to, um, hear it. Glad I-I didn't, like, cause any permanent damage."

The woman smiles at him again and saunters off. Brian starts to return to his table, but Peter pulls him back by the collar of his shirt.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" he asks.

"What?" wonders Brian, confused.

"That chick was smoking hot and she _wanted _you!"

"Oh, _please_," Brian scoffs. "She did not! Where'd you get an idea like that from, anyway?"

"Um, _hello_?" Peter trills, putting on an effeminate voice and acting like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "The way she was making eyes at you…" Peter bats his eyelashes exaggeratedly at Brian. "_Oooh, sexy stranger! Don't let me fall…except maybe into bed with you, where you can touch all my fun girl parts…"_

Brian scowls at him heavily. Actually having lived with another intellectual for as long as he has has evidently lowered his tolerance level for idiots.

"I'm going back to the table."

________________________________________________________________________

Brian and Stewie are standing on the sidewalk outside the restaurant, exchanging goodbyes with Peter and Lois.

"Well, then, we probably won't see both you again until Thanksgiving," says Lois somewhat wistfully. She embraces Stewie, before moving on to Brian, startling the former dog. "Meg was talking nonsense about her and Dean giving the dinner at their house this year, but I managed to dissuade her." She produces a short, slightly mean laugh. "Mothers and daughters are always having this problem, probably, but, really, who does she think she is? It's my proper place to give it, I'm the matriarch of this family! I told her nobody wanted to go to her place for Thanksgiving." A regretful sigh. "Poor Wendy. He always distrusted the post office, and then he was run over by a mail truck."

The senior Griffins get put into a cab, while Brian and Stewie decide to head back to the apartment on foot.

"You know, Brian, I've been thinking-"says Stewie.

Brian interrupts. "Uh oh. That's never good," he jokes.

Stewie scowls at him. "Douche. Anyway, I've been thinking about my occupation."

Stewie is a quality control officer on the assembly line of some technology company. With his intelligence, it is a job in which he could obviously perform his duties in his sleep if he had to. But he's confessed to being satisfied with it.

"What about it?" Brian asks.

Stewie shrugs, jamming his hands into his trouser pockets. "You know, I only had three real goals my whole life…"

"And what were those?" Brian is thinking that he already knows what two of them are, but he's curious as to the third.

"Do away with Lois," Stewie replies, ticking the items off on his fingers and smirking ironically at this first one. "Of course, that one's kinda off the to-do list. And I suppose it's inevitable that goal number two, i.e., taking over the world, was removed from it eventually as well. But I could've at least been a politician, or CEO of a global corporation- I have the potential! But, Brian…I just don't have the ambition any more! I'm not willing to give that much of myself to my career. But…but what does it mean that I'm happy with such a pedestrian job as I have now?!"

Brian isn't sure what that means. He simultaneously marvels at the growth and maturity Stewie is now showing at the tender age of twenty-two, a perspective he never expected the young man to acquire, and inwardly commiserates with him for his angst.

He briefly slings an arm around Stewie's shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

"What was your third goal?"

This earns a sweet smile of victory from Stewie. "To win you," he answers looking over at Brian. The smile becomes a bona fide grin. "That's one thing accomplished."

_To be continued…_


	7. Chapter 7

**I don't know if this chapter is any good…I'm worried it might suck a little :[. I really wanted to update within the week, though. I also really wanted to include the play auditions in here, but it would've made this chapter significantly longer than the others…and I wasn't sure how to go about making that part funny or interesting, so…**

**Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Family Guy.**

It's not a very bad turnout for the party, considering Brian and Stewie don't have very many friends. Arthur, Ashton, whatever Xan's piano-playing friend's name is, once offered up (unasked) a explanation for just why that is:

"It's because you two are so pretentious! You're the most damned exasperating couple to be around!"

Which is a bold-face _lie_, of course.

Regardless, after inviting everyone they know from the theatre, some of the people from the building, and Stewie's coworkers, the total guest tally is around forty people.

Stewie (as an Egyptian pharaoh) is a born host, gliding back and forth across the rooftop with one of his gimmicky 'poison appletinis' in hand and mingling effortlessly with the guests. He fairly glows, accepting compliments on the food and décor. Altogether reveling in the success of the bash. A jazzy rendition of 'Monster Mash' is playing for music in the background. All of a sudden, though, he spots Brian (dressed as a pirate), standing off to the side next to a potted fern draped with fake spider webs, quietly detached from the celebrations and just observing the surroundings. Stewie frowns.

He sneaks up behind his mate and whispers low in his ear, causing Brian to jump a little, "God you look sexy. I wouldn't mind you plundering me here and now, Captain long John-"

"Stop," Brian says irritably, cutting him off. He nabs Stewie's drink from him and downs it himself. "I swear, you have the dirtiest mind I've ever encountered."

"I most certainly do not!" protests Stewie, indignant. "What about Quagmire?"

"Oh, yeah," says Brian, then grimaces and shakes his head sympathetically. "After the way he lived, it must have been the worst type of punishment for him when the doctors had to cut it off…"

"Oh, Brian, look, more guests!" cries Stewie, clutching Brian's arm and giving a tiny skip. He strains- not very much, on account of his tallness- to see over the tops of everybody's heads. "It's Xan and Rick! No time to be a wallflower now Brian, we're joint-hosting this thing; let's go welcome them!" He hangs on Brian's arm and steers him toward where Xan Reynolds and his boyfriend have just emerged from the stairwell.

Having occasionally socialized with Xan, Stewie's had the opportunity to meet his partner, Rick. He is a rotund gentleman who always wears pastel wears that give him the appearance of a giant marshmallow. He has a personality to match, too. To say that he was a man of few words would be an understatement, and when he _did_ choose to talk, he was such a slow speaker that it took him about an hour to get out a sentence.

Tonight, Stewie is annoyed because Rick is wearing a powder blue version of his trademark sweater (not even orange or black, for crying out loud!), and one of those cheap drugstore masks that only cover up your nose and around your eyes.

"This is a costume party, Rick," Stewie reminds the man condescendingly, scrunching up his nose. "I really ought to turn you away for not being in accordance with the dress code."

"Oh, Stu, be nice won't you?" pleads Xan with a charming smile, defending his significant other. "He _has_ a mask." Wrapping an arm as far around Rick's girth as he can get it.

Stewie doesn't feel like it, but he lets it drop nonetheless. He sighs. "Well, for _you_ I will, because your costume is _marvelous_!" He's genuinely thrilled by Xan's getup. It's sort of like a flamboyant Phantom of the Opera, or 'Elton John does Phantom of the Opera', maybe. He's wearing a purple satinet suit with glittery appliqué musical notes all over it, and his mask is half a laughing face, half a weeping one. "Turn for me, won't you? That's right, spin, show it off!"

Rick is holding out a hand to Brian, clearly about to introduce himself, before Stewie intercedes. Here is one nicety he is glad enough to perform.

"Oh, I forgot! You two haven't actually met! Xan, you and I are shamefully remiss, aren't we, in neglecting to perform this introduction? Rick-" he turns toward the big blue marshmallow, and then to Brian, tilting his head in the pirate's direction, "this is my Brian," he announces proudly. "Brian, Rick."

They shake, and then Xan steers Rick in the direction of the refreshment table, saying, "I'm _famished_, darling," earning an agreeable grunt from his boyfriend.

Stewie rolls his eyes. _Mm. Food good. Me hungry too. Eat now._

"Ugh. What a stick in the mud. I don't care for that man, I don't know what Xan sees in him. He could do much better."

Brian looks ticked off at this. "Oh, yeah? Have somebody in mind for him do you?" he snaps.

Stewie is completely confounded by Brian's remark, but he doesn't appreciate being spoken to in such a rude manner. "_What _are you talking about?" When he sees Brian's eyes follow Xan and Rick's progress to the refreshment, and then linger hopefully on the alcohol, he sneers. "I say, best make the rounds with me and socialize. Left to your own devices you'll end up getting sauced all night and making a spectacle of yourself. And that type of conduct reflects badly on me, too, you know, think of that."

Brian is giving him a cross look, almost glaring at him from hooded eyes. "Look, if I'm such poor company, why don't you leave me alone and go enjoy the party yourself? I indulged you by even letting you give it the first place, especially after you broke your goddamn promise to me, you jerk! You said I wouldn't have to lift a finger, but I've put just as much effort into preparing for it as you did!"

"Why, why did you do it then if I'm such a jerk?" Stewie returns angrily, his hackles rising. "And parenthetically, you _let _me do nothing; I didn't and I don't need your permission to do whatever the hell I please!"

"Stewie….just leave me alone." Brian sounds tired now and rubs at his temple. He has the nerve to turn away from Stewie, actually turn way as though he can't be bothered anymore with this conversation!"

"Gladly!" shouts Stewie, and then composes himself. Goes to join the party.

But as Stewie mixes and mingles with their mutual acquaintances he keeps glancing over at Brian all night, never stops periodically scanning the rooftop for him to monitor his activities. Making certain he's not sulking or getting stinking drunk or dancing on tables. The erstwhile animal talks to a few people; most extensively with their theatre associates. Typical. Since when is Brian such a workaholic, anyway?

Stewie tenses a bit when he observes Brian out of the corner of his eye talking to this fellow who lives in the apartment above theirs and an unfamiliar, attractive woman. It's not as though she's movie star-pretty or anything, and essentially….in theory…he trusts Brian…

No. Not 'essentially in theory'. He trusts Brian. Period. And he's never had a problem with his mate talking to, or even mildly flirting with, women before. So why the devil should he now, for Christ's sake? Brian loves _him._ That is simple fact, like gravity or evolution, or hairspray on your butt to keep your bathing suit from riding up. Brian's love for him is there in the way his voice takes on that warm quality when they're conversing, or that utterly besotted way he sometimes looks at him, the way he holds him after sex.

So what if Brian's talking to a good-looking female? Throwing his head back and laughing? Touching her on the arm…

"Stu!" Xan's cheerful voice brings him out of his tortured brooding. "Hey, earth to Stu! Hey there, buddy, what's up, huh?"

Stewie shakes his head to clear it, tossing off his ruminations, welcoming the distraction that has come in the pleasant shape of Xan Reynolds.

As fate would have it, at that very moment the song that starts playing is "Walk Like an Egyptian".

"Nothing whatever," he answers, smiling. "Come on, dance with me."

Once the Halloween party is over with, Brian and Stewie both assume cleanup duty, not many a word being exchanged between them while they toil. Scraps of unsalvageable leftover food, deflated balloons, and streamers are dumped in giant plastic garbage bags, which they take turns running downstairs.

Stewie brings the last sack full of debris back down. As he enters the apartment, he notices that, strangely, all the lights have been shut off. This sets him to fuming.

_That damn dog! What the hell is this?! He can't even leave any of the lights on for me so I don't trip and bust my head open and strew garbage everywhere?!_

He's grumbling lowly to himself as he feels about for the kitchen light switch. And then touches someone else's fingers. They entwine with his, and Stewie thinks as his pulse quickens slightly- in a good or a bad way, he can't say yet- _God, I _really_ hope this is Brian! It _feels_ like his hand…_

The light comes on, and Brian is standing very close to him. Stewie cocks his head to one side and starts to say something to him.

"Brian, I…._Mmphffft_!" The powers of speech are suddenly beyond him as Brian takes a step forward and crushes Stewie to him, his mouth closing on Stewie's with a startling fierce desire. It has all the younger man's blood abruptly running south. The blonde uses his tongue to pry open his mouth and they both sway somewhat. Brian releases Stewie, grabs him by the shoulders, and turns him around.

Brian gives Stewie a gentle push, and then presses on his back so that Stewie is bent over one of the bar stools, his chest against the seat and his ass sticking out and in the air.

Leaning over Stewie, Brian whispers huskily, "I want to have you just like this. Any objections?"

"No," Stewie gasps out, breathless, a thrilling shiver dashing up his spine.

________________________________________________________________________

Yesterday was the last day of callbacks for _Quotient of Bravery: the Musical_ and today the final casting decisions have been posted in the theatre corridor. And, naturally, they come as no actual surprise to Stewie.

The lead goes to a promising young actor who'd had a part in last year's off-Broadway production of a modernized version of Shakespeare's not-often-performed play, _Cymbeline_ that had earned raves.

Stewie is given the bit role of one of the soldiers and in addition is to be understudy to the lead.

Backstage, Stewie is sitting on a crate and Brian comes up and sits behind him on it, kind of folding himself over the other man.

"Hey, you're not angry or anything, are you?" he asks, his voice laden with concern. Stewie knows that a part of that concern is selfish, is Brian hoping Stewie's not upset with him so he won't get chewed out. But it's also Brian, which means that some of that concern is honestly for Stewie's emotional wellbeing. The mongrel's always looking out for him like that. Even as a dog, he'd been more of a gentleman than plenty of _human _males. God, you can never stop begrudging the person you know is responsible for keeping you from going off the deep end…you can never stop loving them, or being grateful for it, either.

"I mean…you understand the decision, right?" Brian goes on timidly, beginning to rub soothing circles on Stewie's back. "You…" he sighs, "…you were fucking _superb_, but because of your job, you wouldn't be able to make all the rehearsals, and that'd been a problem. Maybe not for you, because you probably already know all your lines, but you would need to rehearse with your costars, to get the chemistry right. And- I don't know how much this is going to help anybody's career…" he laughs self-deprecatingly, "but you're not trying to be an actor, are you? The others are, they need this experience."

"Brian…" Stewie lets out a short puff of breath, leaning back in Brian's arms slightly, "I'm not _angry,_ okay? I just don't like to fail. And I don't like to see you do, either; so I hope for your sake Tyler improves. His inflection whilst singing leaves a good deal to be desired." He pauses, and tries to sit back up, pulling gently away from Brian. "I don't like to come in second."

Pulling him back down, Brian's arms tighten from behind around his waist for a moment. Stewie cranes his neck around to look at him, and Brian's smile for the younger man is doting and doofus-like.

"You'll never come in second with me, Stewie."

Stewie's heart skips a beat. He's touched, he really is, but Brian's words bring about the uninvited and unwelcome recollection of Lois's to Stewie on their shopping trip last month.

_Ha! I wish you could've heard what he just said to me, Mother! You see, I'm _not _his second choice!_

Following behind that smug feeling, though, is another thought…

…_.and I wish I completely believed him…_

_To be continued…_

**If all the jealousy and angst got on your nerves, I'm sorry. Chalk it up to the only way I could conceive of sustaining plot in a sequel, I guess. :P There's no doubt Brian and Stewie love each other, but there are some insecurities there, obviously. On both sides. **

**Next chapter skips a month or so ahead and our boys go to Quahog for Christmas! It's happier and sillier, and may even include sex, so be on the lookout for that ;). Thanks for reading, lovelies! **


	8. Chapter 8

**I never really "got" the difference in explicitness between a lemon and a lime in fan fiction. But-attention! There is a part of this chapter that is distinctly citrusy in content. ;D**

**Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Family Guy.**

It is softly snowing as Brian and Stewie pull into the driveway of the yellow house on Spooner Street two days before Christmas. The gently falling flakes provide a backdrop of picturesque wintry charm, and the residence- once of all the rowdy, madcap Griffins, now only that of the rowdy, madcap Peter- at the heart of it appears all cozy tranquility. Of course, that may have something to do with the fact that the Mr. and Mrs. are evidently not currently within; their vehicle is missing from the drive.

Stewie frowns after ringing the bell and having no one answer. "Blast. I wonder how long they'll be…"

"I told you we should have called ahead," Brian chides him feebly, and then takes in a good gulp of chill December air. Which then makes him cough, but he's more relieved than he expected to be out of the city for awhile. For some ludicrous reason, he's convinced that when they finally do get inside the house, it'll smell like gingerbread, even though if Lois _had_ just made cookies before she left, chances are she burned them as she does every year, and they don't smell so mouth-watering.

But Brian can't help it; he is wholly caught up in the holiday spirit for once. He stands in the middle of the front yard and turns in a circle with his tongue sticking out to catch snowflakes on.

Stewie crosses his arms in front of him and watches Brian with a smile of benevolent derision on his face. "Remember when you used to be a dog-"

Brian snorts.

"-you used to be a dog," Stewie carries on, ignoring him, "And sometimes after it'd snowed, you go outside and walk around on four legs, snuffling at the ground and burying your nose in the snow." His eyes are sparkling.

"I never did anything so undignified!" Brian insists haughtily, thinking, _how dare he bring that up, the brat? Besides, I was just following my instincts! It's a known fact dogs like to play in the snow! _

He makes to take their luggage out of the car- but turning his back on Stewie (oh, when will he learn?) proves to be a mistake when Brian receives a cold, wet snowball to the back of the neck, courtesy of the impish younger man.

"Ah! Stewie, what the hell did you do that for?! It's going to melt down the inside of my coat…"

"Oh, don't be such a wuss!" Stewie cries, and promptly jumps on Brian's back and tackles him to the ground.

"Come on, Dog, put your nose in the snow! Come on, you like it, don't you? Put your nose in the snow!"

Stewie hold Brian's head down, pushing the other man's face into the snow. Brian yelps at the frigidity of the snow touching his flesh. He throws Stewie off of him. The younger man, laughing crazily, giddily, scampers across the yard. "You know, of course, that this means war!" He scoops up a ball of snow and lobs it at Brian.

They proceed to have an aggressive, frenetic snowball fight in their old front yard. Ultimately, Brian charges at Stewie and takes him down, pinning him to the ground. They're both at a loss for breath. Looking at Stewie, Brian sees what a state he himself must be in, too. Face wet, reddened, and chapped-looking. He leans in to close the gap between them, about to meld his lips to Stewie's when he hears a car pull up.

Brian's off of Stewie in a flash.

"_Sweet_, you guys are already here!" Peter calls to them exuberantly, bounding from the vehicle, leaving his wife behind to tussle with bags of groceries. She shoots Peter a dirty look, then grunts with effort as she attempts to balance the sacks in her arms. Stewie rolls his eyes and goes to her aid, first nabbing his pull-along luggage from his and Brian's car, and then relieving Lois of a large, heavy-looking paper bag.

"Yes, well, now's not the time for dawdling! Let's get inside."

Brian is starting to tremble somewhat from the cold of the snow he's got crammed and seeping into all sorts of ungodly places. Yes, inside is a good idea. He collects his own two suitcases.

They wait for Peter to unlock the front door and then enter the house. Lois and Stewie head for the kitchen.

"Here, buddy, let me give you a hand there," Peter offers, grinning and taking one Brian's suitcases from him.

"Thanks, Peter," Brian replies, smiling back at him. He hoists the remaining piece of luggage and follows Peter toward the stairway.

"No problem," says Peter. "We'll just take these up to Chris's room, it's where you stayed last time…"

Surprised, Brian corrects him, "You mean Stewie's room," without thinking. As soon as the words leave the tip of his tongue, though, he realizes his error and covers his treacherous mouth with both hands, letting go of his suitcase and sending it tumbling down the stairs.

Brian stares after it hopelessly.

"Oh," says Peter placidly. "You and Stu decided to swap rooms? How come?"

"Huh? Um, no. No, we…we didn't." Brian hems and haws. "I can't sleep in Chris's room, see, because…it only has a cot. And I…have back problems! Yeah, that's it! So, I have to share a bed with Stewie."

His suitcase had opened on its way down the stairs and some of his stuff had fallen out. Brian's standing halfway up the stairs and sprints down the remaining steps to jam his wayward belongings back into the suitcase. A couple shirts, a pair of balled up socks, his travel alarm clock…then he sees one item that causes a wash of color to tinge his complexion, as he stands there stupidly dangling it out in front of him in plain sight.

It would _have _to be a roll of condoms.

Peter's eyes widen slightly upon landing on the prophylactics. "Whoa, so um…" He gives his chest a reflexive, nonchalant scratch. "_who_ are you planning to get lucky with during your visit? And so…often?"

"Uh, uh, Ste- Stewie packed those," Brian hastens to reply, dodging the inquiry. "I-I don't know why there are so many…they must be for him…" Every word he spoke was gospel, too. Stewie _had _packed the condoms, there really _were _to many to use in just three days, and Stewie _was _the one who wore rubbers, when he could be bothered to slip one on. Since he had- to be frank- no depository for his release, it saved a lot of mess.

"Oh," Peter says again, this time a little doubtfully. He hesitates. "So who's he-"

Brian interrupts him with a sigh. "Peter, it's probably his lame idea of a joke!" he resorts to lying. "You know, a dig at my sex life?"

"Hehehehehe," Peter giggles. "I get it! Because you never get any, right? Am I right?" He ruffles the former dog's hair as Brian ascends the stairs again. "Poor sexless beast."

* * *

"He's very rambunctious," Meg reveals about her unborn baby. It is just before dinner. She and Dean arrived only a few minutes ago and are now sitting around the front room with her parents, brother, and for all intents and purposes, her brother-in-law. Only one month left to go in her pregnancy, and she's as big as a house. Dean has placed headphones over her protruding belly so that the fetus can listen to his band's music. He himself is bent over the bump, listening as well, banging his head along to the tunes.

Peter looks at Dean. "You know, Meg once said that KISS was stupid," he points out, causing Meg's hubby to gasp in shock and straighten up from leaning over her tummy.

"Blasphemy!"

Meg narrows her eyes at Peter, clearly not appreciating him putting her in hot water with her husband.

"Since when do you remember anything about me, fat ass?! You don't even know when my birthday is!"

"Well, _duh_, Meg," Peter drawls as if it should be self-explanatory. "You were my firstborn and you completely disillusioned all my dreams about parenthood! Before you came along, I thought after you popped out I'd take one look at my adorable baby daughter and fall in love and it would be all sugar and spice and everything nice." He heaves a sorrowful sigh. "You forced me to face just how wide off the mark I'd been." He points his finger at her face. "I got scales, and smells, and looks like a whale. That's what little Megs are made of."

Meg jumps up from the couch. "You know what, screw you! How dare you upset a pregnant lady!" She screams and part runs, part wobbles out of the room, hands cradling her swollen stomach as Dean follows her.

Peter turns to Brian, who's been hanging back stoically taking in the dysfunction.

"Drinks, buddy?"

Brian grins and nods. "You read my mind."

* * *

That night, Brian heads upstairs to Stewie's room, shutting and locking the door behind him. He finds Stewie standing in the middle of the of the room, changing into his p.j.'s. He's currently sporting the bottoms, and is about to take off his oxford shirt and exchange it for the pajama top. Upon catching sight of Brian, the younger man casts him a sly expression that doesn't bear dwelling on right now.

Brian starts in about the condoms, and how Peter saw them.

"What's up with bringing about a dozen of them, huh? That's a little ambitious even for us, don't you think?"

"My dearest darling, I would _never _call your virility into question!" Stewie exclaims, feigning shock as he unbuttons his shirt. "However, if _you_ think you're not man enough to satisfy my voracious appetites…" He sneers.

"Oh, and let me guess, I'm supposed to become aroused watching you putting on that avocado face mask you're so fond of before bed!" Brian returns around a growl, suppressing a grin at the same time.

To which Stewie glares at him. "Ass," he retorts, stalking toward Brian.

"Ooh, good comeback," Brian croons sarcastically. Stewie lifts one of Brian's hands and presses it to his cheek.

"You can't honestly say that you don't like it. The feel of my soft skin," he purrs confidently. He then does that thing that drives Brian crazy, kissing him on the collarbone, passes his tongue across in tickling swipes, and sucking on it.

"We can't really have sex here, anyway," Brian declares. "We'll be heard." He feels his lip twitch besides his best efforts. "You'll scream. You always scream."

Stewie's shoulders rise and lower indifferently. "Stuff a sock in my mouth."

Simply to call his bluff, Brian gets a pair of rolled up socks. He puts a hand on the back of Stewie's head and angles it gently back, and then mercilessly shoves the socks into Stewie's open mouth.

The younger man spits them out and responds to Brian's grin with a cheeky, "I meant a _dirty pair. _I'm feeling absolutely _filthy." _He shrugs his open shirt off his shoulders and allows it to fall to the floor. He wraps his arms around Brian's neck and kisses him, urging him toward the bed.

Brian gives a small moan against Stewie's lips. He hadn't gotten utterly drunk with Peter at the Clam, but intoxicated enough to return with his head feeling thick and warm and fuzzy. That's faded now, and what's in its place is neediness, a touch of melancholy, and horniness.

Stewie pulls apart from him and works the buttons on Brian's slacks. Brian's gaze flickers to a part of Stewie's wall where the newer paint has worn away over the old trimming which adorned the room in Stewie's early youth. Some of the babyish animal décor is visible. It disturbs Brian marginally to recall that he's been in this room when it had a crib and a mobile instead of the bed they are probably about to besmirch.

He shakes it off, though. Stewie's very existence has come closer than anything else has in making him a believer in fate. It's as if they have this extended history together because they were made for each other.

It's a good twisted, like caramel drizzled on a sundae

Stewie has got Brian's pants pulled down and is mouthing at his cock through his boxer briefs.

Brian throws back his head and growls low in his throat and yanks Stewie to a standing position. They shed the rest of their clothes, savoring the skin-to-skin contact as they lower themselves onto the bed, without detaching their mouths from one another's. Brian stretches out an arm for a condom and the lubricant- conveniently on the nightstand already.

As per usual, Brian has to exercise restraint in not getting himself too excited when Stewie's hand slides pleasurably along his hard length as the younger man lubes him up. Then Stewie kneels with one leg on either side of Brian's thighs as Brian lines himself up, tipping his head back onto the pillow and sucking in an anticipatory breath. It leaves him shakily, along with a little broken groan, as Stewie seats himself fully in one slow but continuous motion.

The younger man leans in and kisses him demandingly, taking Brian's lower lip into his mouth, and then nibbling on it. He sets a steady, tortuously slow rocking pace, muffling Brian's impassioned noises by sticking the side of his hand into the former dog's mouth. Brian endeavors not to bite down on it too hard.

Stewie stays, remarkably, much quieter than he ordinarily does, since the situation necessitates it. His lips pull together in a tight, impenetrable line. His nostrils flare as he breathes through them heavily. Brian semi-expected him to be loud, anyway, to revenge himself on the family by giving them all mental damage caused from being forced to listen to him and Brian making love.

The perfect tight hotness of Stewie's muscles squeezing him is irresistible. Impatient, Brian seizes Stewie's hips and begins thrusting upward. The change of momentum produces a hiss from the ginger-haired man which turns into a congested-sounding squeak as Brian strikes his prostate. He bounces in Brian's lap as Brian continues to lift his hips to match the younger man's every move.

Finally, Stewie grabs a hold of his own member as he laps at Brian's nipples. In the next moment, he is coming with a subdued whine in the back of his throat, the muscles in his ass contracting spasmodically around Brian's length. The former dog's thrusts become much quicker and jerkier as he feels the unstoppable coiling sensation of a building orgasm.

Shuddering all over, he's sent off the edge, his inarticulate yell of completion somewhat stifled by Stewie's hand.

For several lengthy moments, there is nothing but labored breathing.

"Wow," Brain manages, wheezing.

Stewie wobbles slightly atop his lap and nearly topples off, but though he is looks distinctly dazed, he's able to slide off (forcing Brian to pull out) easy-does-it onto the mattress.

Bonelessly, Brian grabs a tissue from the nightstand to wipe himself off and has just enough energy left to pull Stewie tightly to him. His mate snuggles up, proclaiming their recent activity "Lovely," in a drowsy, gratified voice.

"This is the happiest I've ever been here."

Brian emits a whimper as he fights to recover his breath. _It's amazing what an ego-booster making love to Stewie is, _Brian thinks complacently. Stewie's hair is hanging in his uniquely-shaped face. _He looks so well and completely fucked. _

He reaches over and brushes a few auburn locks out of the way. As Stewie grabs his hand and kisses his wrist, Brian notices with a tiny prickling of guilt that he drew blood on the back of Stewie's hand. But since the younger man gives no indication of being anything other than blissfully tired and satiated, there's nothing to do but to close their eyes and go to sleep. Together.

It has only been eight months out of Brian's life. He has spent, needless to say, so many more nights _not_ sleeping next to Stewie. But now…to fall asleep without soaking in Stewie's warmth, smelling the scent of Stewie's pineapple shampoo, feeling Stewie's breath on his neck, and just overall without having his presence there…does not sound like something that Brian would enjoy.

* * *

The Chris Griffins make their appearance the next morning. Brian is sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room when they come in the front door. At the same time, Stewie emerges from the kitchen with a pot of miniature smoked sausages in barbeque sauce. He spears one with a fork and holds it under Camille's longish, narrow nose. "Pig?" he offers, all innocence.

Chris's wife, dressed head to toe in sophisticated dark colors that make her thin frame appear even more gaunt, gasps in offense. "I know vhat you are about, you mean to make ze fun of me!"

"No, no," Stewie assures her, with a sidelong wily gin at Brian. Brian rolls his eyes and excuses himself to make use of the facilities. Behind him, he can hear Stewie say to Camille, "You're French! I know there's a difference!"

After Brian exits the bathroom, Chris corners him in the upstairs hallway.

"So…you and Stu, huh?"

Brian is aware that Chris has heard about it from Meg. Prior to leaving Quahog for NYC last April, Stewie made an insulting remark about her new husband, and Meg, trying to be clever, had countered by calling Brian Stewie's boyfriend. The reddish brown-haired young man'd merely replied that, yes, he was.

The ex-canine is instantly simultaneously apprehensive and frustrated. When will people just learn to accept their relationship and be on their merry way, goddamn it? He compels himself not to get angry, however.

"Me and Stu," he agrees readily, and waits for Chris to say something else.

Chris's cheeks and the bridge of his nose are flushed somewhat. "I- I just can't believe it…" he confesses awkwardly.

Brian sighs. "Believe it, Chris." He starts to move around the large blond man, but is prevented by a beefy hand on his shoulder.

"Brian, I don't really have anything against it, I don't want you to think that." He strokes the wispy little goatee he now wears. "It's very, very odd!" He suddenly cries, and there's an edge of what could be disgust to his tone, but then he adds in a much friendlier voice, "But I wonder if we all should have seen this coming. In the end, I'm happy for you guys, man."

Brian is a little bit stunned. "T-thanks, Chris," he says, and means it.

"No problem," Chris continues, smiling. "Mark just stuck his gum to Stu's slacks, and Stu barely went off on him at all! He didn't threaten to pull his brains out through his nostrils with a fish hook or anything! So, hey, if you've managed to tame my little brother that much- more power to ya."

* * *

"Who wants cookies? Brian, can you give me a hand in the kitchen?" Lois asks, rising from the couch. For some inexplicable reason, she's wearing a sexy Mrs. Claus outfit tonight, even though she's got company in the form of her children, her children's partners, and her grandchildren. Brian has been trying not to stare at the boobs (still rather nice for her age) that have been pushed up into prominent display by her getup, so as not to upset Peter and/or Stewie.

The Griffin clan is gathered in the family room, sipping eggnog and staring vacantly at the television, watching Peter and Dean's beloved KISS Christmas special. Brian looks around him, a bit taken aback. "Me?" _Why me? _"Um, sure, Lois."

She's gotten around to making the gingerbread cookies: they are emitting an increasingly pungent sweet and spicy aroma from the oven.

Lois leans against the counter and faces him. "So…how's everything? We missed having you for Thanksgiving."

"Oh, yeah, uh, everything's good. Great, really. Thanksgiving, yeah, well-we _thought_ of you guys, too, but it just didn't seem practical to leave the city for one day. We had a nice, quiet Thanksgiving, the two of us…" Brian drones on.

"That's good," Lois interrupts. She keeps smiling at him good-humouredly, but it seems a tad affected. "So has Stu found a job yet?"

Brian nods. Why doesn't Lois know that already? "Uh, yes, yes, he did. Some time ago. Didn't he tell you?"

Brow puckering slightly, Lois admits, "No, he didn't. Where is he working, then?"

"Kureno Industries. It's an electronics company."

"Ah." She hesitates before reaching over and resting her hand on his arm. Her grin grows exponentially as she gazes into her eyes, leaning forward so much her breasts are practically falling out of her corset top.

Brian glues his eyes to the ceiling.

"What about you, Brian? How's your musical coming along? It's so exciting to know that this time next month, after it's a huge sensation, I'll be able to say I knew a true artistic visionary way back when." She flatters.

_Holy crap, is she…_flirting _with me?!_

"Haha, that's nice of you to say, Lois," he says quickly, extricating his arm. "Well, we've had some issues with a couple actors forgetting one or two of their lines in rehearsals…and Xan's dad wants us to change the name of the show, which is the biggest thing…" He is edging toward the door.

"C'mon, Brian," Lois coaxes, taking a step in his direction, still bending forward. "Can't you stay and talk to me a minute more? Remember how we used to get along, you and I?"

Brian can _really_ smell those cookies now. He goes over and switches the oven off. "I think these are probably done."

"_Humph. _Indeed. Quite done," comes a posh, vaguely crotchety English-accented tenor from the doorway.

"Stewie!" Brian zips across the room to his side.

"The domestication of the dog," Stewie says with a snigger as they walk out of the kitchen.

Brian turns around and looks at him. "What?"

"Nothing." Stewie smiles tersely, his eyes darting over to Lois. "Worthless bimbo," he mutters, screwing up his features sourly.

* * *

He wakes up before Stewie on Christmas morning. There is no noise that he can detect in any other part of the house. A glance at the clock tells him it's only a few minutes past five a.m. He yawns and stretches his legs and wiggles his toes. Stewie is still in the same position as last night, nestled against him. Smiling softly, Brian rolls the younger man onto his back and commences kissing him awake, repeatedly pressing his lips to every inch of Stewie's face.

Stewie's hazy eyes flutter gradually open. "Mm…what?" he rasps, foully sweet breath wafting across Brian's face, a result of all those cookies and eggnog the night before and not brushing his teeth.

It doesn't deter Brian from kissing him on the lips, long and deeply and passionately. When they separate, a thin strand of saliva still connects their lips.

"We're up before anyone." Why his tone is so confidential, he really doesn't know. He clambers over the side of the bed and fetches something from his suitcase. "Merry Christmas, Stewie."

Stewie sits up now with his back against the headboard. "Well, I say, this certainly _is _an appealing way to start the day."

He gasps when he opens his gift, a handsome gold bracelet engraved with his name.

"Oh, _Brian,_" he sighs. "It's exquisite!" He frowns. "Now I feel bad for only getting you an electric razor and a suede portfolio."

"I wanted to give it to you in private." Brian pauses. His next words come out in a rush, "Hey, whadaya say we leave after breakfast, huh? We'll drive back to New York and go ice skating at Rockefeller Center. And afterward, we'll get cocoa with cool whip and the shaved chocolate on top like you like-"

Stewie blinks his big blue eyes at Brian. "'With cool hwhip'?" he repeats (Brian manages to barely flinch at the annoying pronunciation). "And you don't even know how to ice skate…oh well, I guess it _would _be entertaining to watch you continually fall flat on your ass…oh! I just recalled! Xan and his pet _bore, _Rick, were planning on going there for Christmas, too. It might be a lark to meet up with them, huh?"

Brian's stomach squirms unpleasantly. _Xan? What is Stewie doing thinking about _him? _On Christmas morning, in bed with me in his parents' house, putting on the bracelet that _I _gave him….?_

Just then, Peter's signature shrill, juvenile laughter, accompanied by Chris's, splits the air, followed by dual cries of "Wooo-hooo!", followed by panicky yelling and a noisy _crash_. Brian and Stewie glance at each other, then run to the window and open it.

Looking out, Peter and Chris- dressed like Santa Claus and an elf, respectively- are lying in a bush amidst the shattered remnants of a wooden sleigh, groaning in pain.

"Ow. _Ooowww_!" Peter grits his teeth and sounds like he's choking back a sob as he cries to all the neighborhood, "Merry freakin' Christmas, everybody!"

"Uh," Brian begins, scratching at the back of his head and gazing down at the two fat men. "Then again, maybe we _should_ stay awhile longer. It's definitely interesting here, to say the least."

_To be continued…_


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Family Guy.**

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Brian asks as Stewie adjusts and straightens his bowtie. They've been invited to go to an art gala that is displaying some work from Xan's former writing partner, whose specialty now is painting,

Stewie clucks. Finishing fiddling with Brian's tie, he dusts off the front of his love's spotless, freshly-pressed white dress shirt as he replies firmly, "Definitely. It's the night before the play opens. If you stay home, you'll just be up all night worrying yourself sick about it. So we're going to out and have a divine time and take your mind off of it."

"Don't count on it working," sighs Brian, stepping away from Stewie as the younger man's hands leave him and scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror nearby.

"You'd better hope that it does," says Stewie sternly, eyebrows knitting together in irritation. "Because I will not be held responsible for my actions if I have to endure your tedious, self-doubting whining for another twenty-four hours."

They discover old Mr. Kincaid downstairs in the lobby, standing stooped over as usual and looking lost. His milky-eyed gaze lands on the couple of non-married, non-related Griffin men emerging from the elevator and he exclaims jubilantly, "Why if it isn't Tommy and Ansell! How ya doing, boys? Listen, I won't be to make our bowling league practice tomorrow night because I'm taking Gertie to the Spring Fling dance. Would you mind telling Rudy?"

"Erm, sure thing, pal," Brian tells him. "And congratulations on snagging Gertie for the dance, she's a real hot little number." He gives Mr. Kincaid the thumbs up sign on the way out the door.

* * *

"Brian. Brian, come here."

Stewie's lips contort in disgust when he sees that Brian's got above five snausages crammed into his mouth. He turns his nose up at the man and guides him across the room of the gallery in which they're holding the showing. "B-rye, you've _got _to see this painting! It would look perfect in our living room, don't you think? You know how we kind of have that green theme going on? Well, isn't the green in these leaves the precise same shade as our couch and the borders on the wall? And it's just _gorg _altogether, it _exudes _emotion, doesn't it? Notice the beautiful use of color, how the edges of the flower petals blend into-"

He hears Brian utter, "Oh. My. God."

"I know, right?" Stewie replies, thinking that Brian is concurring with him about the art. Until he turns back around and catches sight of…

"Oh, my God. Isn't that-"

"Tanya," Brian affirms. "My ex-wife. And J.M. Dillard. The man who slept with her before she got the prefix 'ex'."

"Well, there's no doubt who's fared better since the dissolution of your marriage," Stewie comments. And no kidding, either. Stewie can remember plain as day meeting her when he was a teenager, the bitch who'd taken Brian from him! It had been all that he could do not to physically attack her at the dinner table. He'd only been grateful that soon after he began college, and that distracted him somewhat from his heartache.

But she used to be- on the surface, anyway- quite lovely. The woman currently just feet from them and advancing in their direction has a complexion that's ashen. Her eyes look as though they've never sparkled like two jewels. Her updo is untidy (and not in a good, intentional way). Not to mention her frothy, reminiscent-of-prom lilac gown is _not _working for a chic nighttime art show in winter.

The man whose arm she's hanging on is a stout, swathing-looking bloke with dark, slicked back hair. Brian's jaw clenches.

Stewie knows that his love doesn't retain lingering affection for Tanya. Brian's told him before that he'd fallen out of love with her about a year before he even filed for divorce.

Conversely, he can't really hate her either, just because his feelings relating to her aren't strong enough for hatred, though he'll always resent her and his previous book agent both- quite justifiably- for what they did to him. He _does_ actually hate J.M. Not purely for nailing his wife that he no longer cared about but was _his _nonetheless, but because he'd never held Mr. Dillard in high esteem to begin with.

"Brian," Tanya greets her ex, cautiously affable. "It's been a long time. How are you?"

"Great," Brian replies simply. There's a blink-or-you'll-miss-it, very minute smile, but Brian doesn't appear too discomforted. "Been keeping busy."

J.M. produces a phony, deep bass laugh. "Well, I'm glad to hear it. You're looking well. Last I heard you were traveling all over this great nation of ours. Life on the road agrees with you?"

The man reminds Stewie- as Brian does occasionally- of a relic of a bygone era. J.M. smells strongly of scotch and would look quite natural in a zoot suit.

"He's living here in the city now," Stewie says, insinuating himself into the conversation. He places a hand on Brian's shoulder. "He's about to open a musical off Broadway tomorrow. It's going to be a smash." He brags.

"Really?" asks Tanya, shocked.

"Well, that's splendid," pronounces J.M. in his exaggerated manner. He glances at his girlfriend. "We'll have to go see that one, won't we, my dear?"

"Well, that's if you can get tickets," Stewie points out, puffing out his thin chest. "They're selling like hotcakes. The play's an adaptation of one of his books, and Brian was very instrumental in rewriting it for the stage. In my humble opinion, this show will give tribute to his considerable talents." He beams at Brian and tries to take his hand, and is perplexed when his mate resists, instead moving the hand up to his mouth to cover up a 'cough'.

"Brian, who is this?" Tanya questions, inclining her head toward Stewie.

"Stewie Griffin. When last you met I think he was fourteen."

"_Oh, _is this _little _Stewie Griffin?" the woman practically squeals as Stewie glares at her. "I can't _believe _it! Well, how nice you two have kept in touch over the years."

Brain chuckles. "I've kept in touch with _all _the family."

J.M. and Tanya excuse themselves after this, and Brian and Stewie likewise drift to another part of the room.

All in all, it was a brief encounter that could have been much more awkward than it was. And it was probably the least awkward for Brian, peculiarly enough. No, it's the new lover, i.e. Stewie, who feels disparaged. He's entertained himself before with the scenario of Brian and himself running into Tanya, and he'd pictured himself as the champion who won the prize- Brian. Brian Griffin was a great guy, and Tanya let him get away. And it wasn't only that Brian was a great guy, but that Stewie has improved him.

Yes, indeed he has.

Brian has a more flattering hairstyle now.

He can say that he's a _recovering_ alcoholic and be telling the truth.

His mediocre novel has been turned into a clever musical certain to earn raves- the previews went exceptionally well.

And something completely new: he gives the impression of a man content with his life.

However, it would seem that Brian isn't entirely at peace with the concept of openly dating Stewie.

Whilst Brian goes to talk to some other people, Stewie garbs a flute of champagne and makes his way over to a far corner of the gallery to mope.

"Stu?"

He turns around and spots Xan.

"Oh, thank the lord, a friendly face!"

Xan laughs. "Aren't you here with Brian?"

"Yes," Stewie answers, and doesn't elaborate further. He gives a quick glance around. "What about you? Is Rick here tonight? He wipes his brow and takes a swig of champagne.

Pulling a sad face, Xan responds, "No, he's feeling kind of under the weather, poor dear. So I fed him some chicken noodle soup and put him to bed. I told him 'doctor's orders, sweetie'! Can you imagine how awful if he missed opening night?" His lips twist. "He's so cute when he's all helpless. If I wasn't so worried about him being contagious, my doctor's orders would be for him to take _me _twice a day."

Stewie shudders, his mind repelling the image of Rick naked: there's one he_ really _did not need. "Well, you _are _quite a pill," he teases Xan playfully.

"Shut up!" Xan returns, grinning, and slugs Stewie on his arm. His hand stays on Stewie's arm, lightly grabbing the fabric of his suit jacket as his smile vanishes. "Stu, I don't mean to poke my nose in where it's not wanted- or needed, I'm not sure yet- but is everything okay with you tonight? I don't exactly know how to put this, but you seem…tense or something."

Stewie, even with how much he likes Xan, almost tells him to go to hell and mind his own business, but something stops him. The need to unload, even just to a degree.

"I think I've just been snubbed by my own boyfriend. His ex-wife is here tonight and when she approached us to say hello, he didn't even introduce me as her replacement, which he should have done! He just said 'oh, this is Stewie'. He didn't even give me a fucking title!"

Xan regards him compassionately, then leans in and gives him a half-hug. "Hey, at least he didn't introduce you as his 'friend', right? That's a label and it would've been worse. But I wouldn't worry about it too much if I was you. Brian loves you; anybody with eyes can see it."

As Xan moves away from him, Brian suddenly enters into Stewie's field of vision. The former canine's expression tightens as he swoops down upon them. In the next instant he is standing very close to Stewie.

"I need a breather. You too? You look a little…crowded." This said with a pointed look at Xan. Brian's hand settles on the small of Stewie's back.

Stewie throws his mate a quizzical expression, but the set of Brian's features remains aberrantly rigid and detached. Stewie finally nods once. "Yes. That would be agreeable." With a departing smile at Xan, he allows himself to be led out of the room by Brian.

"Alexander." Brian bids a formal adieu to their theatre cohort.

They go out into the front corridor of the gallery, where only a scant number of partygoers are hanging about.

"So you wanna leave pretty soon or…?" Brian's question trails just as his gaze trails preemptively to the door.

Surprised, Stewie asks, "Why? Haven't you found this evening amusing? Is it being in the same room as your ex-wife?"

"Of course not," Brian replies. "Not that I'm going to pretend I was happy to see her, but she's got as much right to be here as I do. Being in the same room with her doesn't bother me, I could give a shit less what she does. Although I can't believe that she and J.M. are still together."

Stewie shrugs. "She's obviously moved on romantically. I tried to demonstrate that you had as well, but your treatment of me in front of them would seem to deny what I was attempting to communicate."

"What do you mean? I didn't deny anything."

"No, but you left the nature of our association rather ambiguous," Stewie replies edgily.

Brian's eyes widen, then he frowns and scuffs his feet. "I don't know what you mean."

And just like that, Stewie is suddenly positive that he does.

"Whenever I introduce _you_ to someone _I _know, I leave no doubt about who you are to me, what you are to me. But back there-" Stewie motions toward the hall where all the party guests, including Tanya and J.M., still are, "you-you acted like you were…_ashamed_ of me or something." He can't help the hint of injury that creeps into his voice. There. He's confessed his secret fear.

Brian stares down at his shoes. "I'm not…I'm not _ashamed _of you, Stewie." His eyes drag up to meet with Stewie's, and suddenly Brian's shine with a vehemence to back his next words: "How can you even say something like that about me?" he demands.

Stewie sends him a cross look that unmistakably conveys, 'very easily'.

"I'm not ashamed of you," reaffirms Brian; then in a lowered voice adds, "It's, um, just that, you know, I think, well, people will see me differently if I told them straight-out that we…that you are….I don't want to be judged." Those last words come out running together a bit.

"You whited sepulcher," Stewie hisses at him, temper beginning to flare. "For all your high principles, your lobbying, your belief in equality…you do think there's some shame in being gay, after all. Self-loathing homosexual."

"Wha- i-it's-I'm not," Brian's flustered and rendered inarticulate. "It has nothing to do with that! And I'm not! I'm not gay! I still like women, but I'm in love with you, and you happen to be a guy…"

"Why don't you tell the Fat Man about us?" demands Stewie. "He still has no idea that we're anything more that ordinary roommates. You've had ample opportunities to clear up that fallacy, but you just go on letting him believe it!"

"Well, your father's evidently not the only one who's clueless about this relationship! Did you forget that you're very much involved with someone when you were all cloistered with Xan in a corner, letting him put his lousy mitts all over you?"

"What are you babbling about?!"

"Stewie, I _saw_! I saw you with him!" Brian cries, gesticulating wildly with his arm.

"_What, _exactly, did you see?" Stewie demands hotly, gnashing his teeth in outrage at this point, because he's finally starting to get what Brian's implying. "Two friends standing together?" He gives a melodramatic, artificial gasp. "Scandalous!"

Brian's lip curls angrily. "I saw the way he was looking at you. The way you were looking at him. Like you wanted to devour him right then and there in front of everybody," he mutters.

"Christ, you are _really _bad at reading signals, aren't you?" asks Stewie, gaping at him. He feels bile push to the tip of his throat, literally almost sickened to be having this argument.

"You're attracted to him," Brian growls. "Don't even attempt to deny it!"

"Of _course_ I am, you moron, because he reminds me of _you_!" Stewie screams, completely worked-up, a little spittle going flying. "But I don't want to- couldn't _ever _even _begin_ to contemplate doing _anything_ with him! I love _you, _you douche! It's only ever been you for me."

"And how long do you think that's going to be true for?" Despondency mixes with anger in Brian's tone, but Stewie can't think why that is, or ask what is really driving Brian's oblique accusations when he feels this provoked himself. It's usually up to Brian to defuse the situation, Stewie simply doesn't know how to do it.

"I've never betrayed you and never would! And you would accuse me of infidelity because -why, again? Because I find somebody else attractive?! This coming from you, who probably still wants to bang my mother?!"

Brian gasps. "Too. Far," he snarls. "How long has _that_ been in the back of your mind, Stewie, festering away? Well, if you really believe that, you can go to hell. Now, if you're through changing the subject, we can get back to discussing you flirting with Xan because I didn't hump you in public to show everyone you belong to me."

"Oh, stop acting like you're above it; if _Xan_ was around to see it-"

"You see! You see!" cries Brian. "You keep bringing him up!"

"My God," says Stewie, shaking his head at Brian in wonder. "When will you stop sabotaging every relationship you get in? It's really something you need to get sorted out, you know that, buddy? Wh-what is it? Y-you, like, secretly believe you don't deserve to be happy or something? That old ruse?"

"Don't be ridiculous, of course I believe I deserve to be happy-"

"Well, then you must not be happy enough with me," says Stewie curtly, holding in his sniffles as he pivots neatly on his heel and races along the length of the hall toward the door.

Brian calls after him, "Stewie, you're leaving without your coat and it's below freezing out!"

As he flees the gallery, Brian's voice turns into Lois's in Stewie's head:_ You forgot your coat, sweetie, you'll be sorry_. And then he hears those last three words echo and repeat.

_You'll be sorry. You'll be sorry._

He hails a taxi and it pulls up along the curb. He gives the cabbie directions to his mother's hotel, and the woman's words in his head morph into _I told you so._

* * *

In the elevator on the way up to his parents' hotel room (Peter and Lois are in town for opening night tomorrow), Stewie still feels like shouting himself hoarse at her. He's in a temper like his old self- he hadn't even fully realized until now that he _has _an old self- to just start lashing out at everybody. Why must one and all conspire against him? He's heading down the hallway now to the appropriate room number.

He wants to beat down the door and scream hatefully at his mother, "You were right, okay? Are you satisfied? He doesn't want me! He doesn't even want to admit to being with me!"

_He…he wants out._

The thought is like a knife twisting in his heart. Can it really be true? Is that what it boils down to? He stops a few feet from his parents' room and bends over wheezing, his surroundings spinning around him.

_No one said 'it's over', _he reminds himself desperately. _We didn't break up tonight…_

…_If I lose him, I'll die._

Anger is so much more bearable than misery. If he can only force up just enough of his anger to pound on the door, say he needs a place to say, and snap that he's not disposed to go into explanations at present…if they'll accept that and just let him go to sleep…sleep will take him out of his wretchedness.

He knocks upon the door.

"Stu! What brings you- Stu? H-honey? What's the matter?"

Stewie barely registers his mother's expression of alarm and concern as he barges into the hotel room.

"I'm sleeping here tonight!"

_To be continued…_


	10. Chapter 10

**Once again, I would like to take time out to thank everybody for reading and reviewing, and for the fav/alert adds! This chapter is the second to the last**

**Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Family Guy.**

Calmly, but with bone-deep exasperation, Brian speaks into the telephone and asks for the umpteenth time, "Lois, can I _please _talk to Stewie?"

"No." The woman's voice is glacier cold. "For the last time, Brian, I told you: he doesn't wanna talk to you right now. Now, it's very late. Go to sleep. Maybe he'll feel like going into all this with you in the morning. I don't know if he's still going to want to be in the play-"

"Oh, come on!" Brian yells. "No matter what his feelings toward me might be at present, he has a responsibility to everyone who worked hard to get this show underway, including himself."

"He only has a bit part," Lois sighs, with the tone of one placating somebody who really doesn't deserve reassurance. "And Brian, it's interesting to note that your chief concern isn't patching things up with my son- who's very hurt by what happened, by the way- but making sure he fulfills his obligations to your play. I must say that it disturbs me…even if it doesn't surprise me."

"Don't fucking put words in my mouth, Lois," Brian seethes. "I never said-"

Lois gives a hard little chuckle. "Well, I don't think there's room for me to put words in your mouth when you've already put your foot so far in there. Did you or did you not inform my son that you were ashamed of him?"

Brian cringes as though from a punch to the gut recalling that part of his and Stewie's disagreement. He feels his cheeks inflame and thinks, _it's not Stewie I'm ashamed of…so what is it? _Am_ I an absolute hypocrite?_ _What the hell do I have to prove to anybody? It just matters how I feel about myself and that's…_ashamed. _Ashamed that I could mess up the best relationship I've had in my life. _

"No," he answers Lois impassively. "That's not what I said to him."

Lois replies, "I don't believe you. Goodnight, Brian."

"W-wait, wait, wait!" cries Brian hastily before she hangs up the phone. "Lois…is he there? Is he listening? I'll come over, I'll-"

"He's asleep," Lois interrupts him, her voice stiff. "So's Peter and he doesn't know anything about any of this, and I'd like to keep it that way. Seeing as there's really no reason he has to know about you two at all now. And you most certainly will not come over, Brian, because I will not let you in. And I swear to God if you come down here and cause a scene-"

It's Brian's turn to cut Lois off. "What are you talking about? There's no reason he has to know about Stewie and me at all now? Why not?"

"Well, because it's over, isn't it?" Lois expresses matter-of-factly.

All of the air might as well have left Brian's body and he is left reeling from the horror of the very idea that a ten-minute heated disagreement between them could bring about such drastic repercussions.

_That's not- it couldn't be what Stewie told Lois, could it? Stewie doesn't want to be with me anymore?_

Tears leap unwelcome to Brian's eyes, but he brushes them away impatiently.

"Lois…please…" a plaintive note creeps into his voice. "I thought we were friends."

There is a pause, during which he can hear Lois breathing, and he wonders if she's trying to formulate what she wants to say, if she's about to relent, or if she's merely taking a moment to get her anger under control so she won't screech expletives at him.

"You broke my baby's heart," she says at length, so softly he has to strain to catch her words, but it could not be plainer that she is unmoved. "Between you and my child, surely even you wouldn't be stupid enough to question who I have my first loyalty to."

There's a second beat of silence. Then, Brian responds tautly, "Right. I understand. Just so long as you understand, Lois, who has _Stewie's _first loyalty." _Or at least, who I hope still has it, _Brian thinks forlornly to himself.

And with that he hangs up the phone and goes to (figuratively speaking) lick his wounds until the morning.

* * *

As predicted during his idle musings that night at Peter and Lois's house last month, Brian has difficulty obtaining a restful night's sleep without Stewie by his side. He feels not just alone, but lonely in their bed.

The duvet he is lying under was picked out by Stewie. The whole apartment bears examples of the younger man's touch. Which is rather like a woman's, but since there is no chintz to be seen, Brian supposes he should be relieved. It makes Brian feel a little uncomfortable to be here on his own. Like he has no right to (attempt to) sleep here when he's fighting with the man who did the majority of the decorating. This is a place for them together, not Brian by himself.

In the morning he will straighten things out with Stewie, though, he convinces himself.

He is losing sleep over the musical, too, obviously. Tomorrow night will seal his fate as….as…

What is he, exactly? Not a writer, not a director, not a consultant with any significant contribution. What's going to be performed tomorrow night isn't his vision. He's unsure how much credit he should take for it, or how much he wants to. And yet he _is _a consultant. His suggestions are of minimum consequence, but his name, his professional reputation, are attached to this musical. If he had not taken Xan up on his offer to come to New York, he could wash his hands of whatever the outcome, acclaim or ridicule.

He's already not respected in the literary community. He doesn't need to not be respected in the theatre community, too.

He continues to toss and turn throughout his sleepless night.

* * *

"He's not here, Brian," says Lois, closing the door behind him.

Brian sighs, shoulders slumping. "Well…where is he, then?" he demands.

"I don't know. He left after breakfast. Said he wanted to be alone to think."

Brian narrows his eyes distrustfully at her, then he scans the hotel room. There is a single king-size bed and a sofa, neither of which Stewie's on, and the bathroom door is open so Brian can see straight into the small space. Clearly his mate is not holing up here, unless he's hiding in the closest. Mentally, Brian snorts at the irony of that thought, but his enjoyment of the joke is minor, to say the least.

He turns, ready to go already since Stewie's not around, but Lois cups his elbow and halts him at the door.

"What are you planning on saying to him, Brian?" she demands calmly.

"That's actually none of your business," Brian returns with careful neutrality. "Anyway, no offense but you've only heard one side of the story."

"Oh?" Lois arches an eyebrow skeptically. "_Is _there another side to the story? Because whichever way I look at it, I see a young man who thought he was in a legitimate relationship and instead last night was made to feel like your dirty little secret."

There's a wriggling of guilt in the pit of Brian's stomach.

"Well…maybe that's what started it," he concedes grudgingly. "But I think that he welcomed an excuse to be mad at me. He knew he was doing wrong by flirting with Xan! I forgive _him_, if it counts for anything. I mean, if he doesn't still want to leave me anyway."

"W-wait, hold on a minute, Brian," says Lois, holding her hands out palms up in front of her. "Him? You mean _you're_ not relieved that this happened? Weren't you looking for an out?"

"We've quarreled! That's all! The whole thing's just got blown way out of proportion. We didn't…break up or anything! At least, I don't _think _we did." His heart sinks, coming to rest on level with his feet. "Does- does Stewie think we did?" _And if not, does he want to? _That particular question goes unasked, perhaps because he doesn't have the courage to ask it. Funny, he used to have such security in his relationship with Stewie. What changed? It strikes him that it's not that he doesn't trust in Stewie's love for him; it's that he doesn't trust Stewie's manic whims. Stewie's true feelings are deep-seated, but that doesn't mean he won't decide out of the blue that Brian isn't worthy of him.

Lois exclaims, "Brian, since when are you gay?!"

Boy, is Brian getting tired of getting called that! Not that it's an insult of course, it's just not accurate. Brian wants to make her understand his real situation.

"I am in love with Stewie. I am not a homosexual."

It's plain that his elucidation has only made her more perplexed than before.

"Well, Brian, you're a creative person. Isn't it common for people like you to dabble in the same-sex thing?"

"Yeah, because that's what we all do!" Brian retorts scornfully. Lois narrows her eyes at him and Brian rolls his.

"If I was going to 'experiment', Lois, I wouldn't pick _Stewie _to do it with. And I certainly wouldn't move him in with me. There are particular qualities in your son that it takes nothing short of love to overlook."

Lois looks as if she's starting to believe him. Or maybe she still thinks he's lying, but at the very least, she's impressed by his lies.

"You don't have to worry about him taking you back. It…it alarms me somewhat, how much he loves you," she reveals, exhaling loudly. "You should hear the way he says your name when he talks about you. He says it with the same kind of reverence some people say 'God'."

Brian snorts. "He doesn't treat me like any type of deity at home, I can tell you that," he grumbles.

"He adores you." Lois pauses, breaking eye contact with Brian. She looks down at her hand and begins drawing invisible circles on the back of it. "That's why I felt like I had to protect him by testing you in the kitchen on Christmas Eve. When it seemed like I was coming onto you? Well, you passed the test, you didn't take the bait…although there's a tiny part of me that's disappointed you didn't. Not because I wanted you away from Stewie, but because…it meant that you'd stopped pining over me." She peeks up at him.

Brian's eyes grow large; he is staggered to put it lightly. He unconsciously takes a step back from her. "Y-you wish that I was still pining after you?" he asks in astonishment.

He sees Lois's distress as she issues a hurried clarification:

"Don't say it like that, please, you make me sound like an awful person…You and I never would have happened, Brian. I married- with all his faults- the love of my life. It never did seem fair that I was yours, then, but you weren't mine. But, what can I say?" She chuckles ruefully. "It makes a woman feel good to think that she still has value out there on the open market. And it sure the hell is flattering when she believes she's impossible to get over. Especially when it comes to guys like you." She colors slightly and looks away.

"Even though I didn't return your feelings, I liked being special to you, Brian, because you're wonderful. I know it's selfish. And I did want you to get over me enough to move on." Her blush alters into an abashed one. "But you moved on to Stewie and got over me completely. And now you're essentially my son-in-law."

Yeah, he knows. This thought has crossed Brian' mind more than once since he even began to consider getting romantically involved with Stewie. It's a trippy one, to be sure. That he's gone from a keen and lengthy infatuation with the mother to real love and shared living quarters with the son. That he used to be closer to being Lois's peer, and now he's nearer Stewie's. It can't be helped, but if truth be told, it vaguely weirds him out.

He winces in sympathy. "For what it's worth, I swear that I will never call you 'Mom'."

Lois gives a dry laugh.

"He'll be at the play tonight, Brian," she confesses. "I know he will be. He…got a call early this morning. Apparently, the lead actor is sick. Stewie's understudy, so he's going to take his place."

"What?" cries Brian. "Tyler's sick? Wha- nobody called _me_! Why didn't someone call me?"

"Probably because Stewie told them that he would let you know."

"Alright. Alright. That's- that's fine. It's going to be okay," Brian says aloud to himself encouragingly. "He knows his lines- hell, he knows everybody's lines, all of the lines in the play! He'll be fine. Yes."

Lois chews on her lower lip and touches him on the back and nods in the direction of a tiny fridge in the corner of the room. "Brian, why don't you help yourself to a bottle of schnapps from the minibar or something? I know it's pricey, but you've got a long night ahead of you, after all."

"No thanks," Brian mutters.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't trust myself to stop before I'm bombed. And since I'm going to see Stewie tonight, he doesn't like it when I drink too much."

Lois stares at him, her eyes misty. And then it's like an exploding fountain.

As the waterworks are unleashed, she collapses into a chair and sobs, "Oh my _God. Oh my God! _Brian- you really do love him, don't you?"

Brian is unsettled at the sight of her tears and comes up behind her and pats her on the back. "Yes, I really do," he answers simply and softly. She looks up at him, mopping her eyes with a hankie from her pocket and he offers her a strained smile. "Finally, you get it."

"I've been so wrong."

"Yes," says Brian. "But your heart was in the right place. You're a good mother, Lois." He kneels beside her chair and hugs her. Just then, the door to the hotel room opens.

"Lois, you won't believe this but those jackasses _won't _comp my breakfast because I ate too much and also I didn't just stick to breakfast food. Has _no one_ ever heard of a breakfast Cornish hen on a stick?! Those bastards!"

Peter stops speaking when he notices Brian there, with his arms around his wife.

"H-hiya, Brian. What are you doing here?" He squints askance at the onetime canine.

Lois lifts her head from his shoulder and Brian releases her.

"Nothing," answers Brian. "Just had something I wanted to talk to Lois about…"

"Uh huh. I just bet you did," Peter grinds out. "Now I know why you didn't want to hook up with that hot girl at the restaurant! Why you showed up to stay at our house for Christmas with a roll of condoms-"

Brian flushes and Lois tactfully looks away.

"And why I find you here alone with Lois! You're not interested in meeting chicks because you're already having an affair with my wife, you son of a bitch!" Peter finishes, almost yelling.

"Peter!" Lois shouts, offended. "How dare you?!"

Brian stands. "Peter, that's not it," he says exhaustedly. "I'm already seeing someone and up until last night, things were going very well with him." He doesn't stay to see the reaction to the revelation he's just divulged on Peter's face. He swiftly leaves the hotel room without a backward glance.

* * *

Brian walks back to the apartment even though it's quite a distance, braving the bitter sting of the frigid mid-January air. He ploughs forward against the wind at a swift pace, his hands clasped together in front of him, each wringing the other periodically to defend against frostbite. His mind is full of, well, everything.

Then, stupid as it is, when he is halfway home he really begins to start jones-ing for a cig. He's out, so he pops into a store for a pack. Stepping into an alleyway to light up, he takes off his gloves and starts to peel the plastic off the pack. His fingers are already burning with cold.

There is a rustling in the garbage can closest to Brian, and then something pops out of it.

A cat. A kitten, to be precise. Calico. One blue eye and one brown. Probably a few months old and underfed. It jumps, shivering, down from the trash can, and Brian can practically hear the sad violin music. Then it spies Brian, and something happens that's near comical: instead of darting away, it sits down in front of him and adopts a haughty guise: tipping its chin up and fixing half-lidded eyes on the former dog.

_Little monarch of the trash cans, _Brian thinks dryly to himself, snorting internally. _Damn cats and their attitudes._

Brian stares at the little cat and it stares back with perfect dignity, swishing its tail, not crossly, but, more accurately, challengingly.

He pockets his pack of cigarettes, heaves a sigh, and crouches down, seeing if the poor, itty-bitty, impertinent creature will approach him. It blinks its great, mismatched eyes at him, apparently deliberating. A low rumble of a purr is starting up from it. Slowly, it moves one paw in front of the other, walking toward Brian languorously, pausing halfway in the five-foot journey to stretch its limbs and arch its back in an indolent way that seems to suggest it wants to make Brian wait merely because it can.

Brian curses at the scrawny feline under his breath. And then it is bumping against his knee, still purring, and looks up into his eyes and utters a pathetically needy meow. And Brian feels his heart soften in spite of himself.

He scoops up the little cat and takes it home.

* * *

The first performance of _Theater of War: a Musical _(which _Quotient of Bravery _has been renamed for its stage incarnation) is slated to begin in twenty minutes. That is when Brian arrives at the theatre and goes directly backstage, knowing he will find Stewie there getting ready. He's avoided coming down here until he couldn't anymore. First he'd been running around buying cat stuff. When he returned home he'd thought Stewie might be there waiting for him. Unfortunately he wasn't, but Brian hung around the apartment in hopes the younger man would want to stop home and make up with him before they both had to head to the theatre. Brian was in no rush to get there. He feels almost like he did before his wedding- that this day's so big for him, if he takes part, he'll be crushed underneath it (hmm, should that have caused any red flags to go up back then?).

Backstage, there is a long rectangular room where the cast is getting ready, putting on those portions of their costume that modesty doesn't dictate they put on in private, applying makeup, and running through their lines one more time. Stewie, as the new star, gets a vanity table to himself in the corner.

Brian takes a deep breath. Time to bite the bullet. He's the one who owes the apology, after all.

He squats down next to Stewie's chair and catches eyes with him in the mirror the younger man is looking into. Stewie freezes in surprise at Brian's unexpected appearance, and the erstwhile animal launches right on in:

"I'm sorry if I made you feel like anyone less than the most important person in the world to me. I'm not ashamed of you, I'm ashamed of myself. I should have been more considerate toward you when we ran into Tanya and J.M. and I really have no idea why I behaved the way that I did…and I'm sorry I was so jealous of you and Xan, too."

Brian watches Stewie's reflection and sees his love's mouth form a little 'O' in response to the apology. It reminds Brian of a blowup doll's expression; probably not an appropriate thought given the circumstances, but Brian has it nonetheless. And just like a blowup doll, Stewie remains silent.

"I'm very happy with you," Brian adds in a quiet, heartfelt voice.

Stewie turns, finally, and faces him. "You didn't have to say anything. You could at least have held my hand."

"I know," Brian acknowledges willingly.

"And you had no reason to suspect that I would cheat with Xan."

"No."

They lapse into silence for awhile.

Brian lays his head- much like a dog might do- in Stewie's lap and looks up at him beseechingly. "I got you a cat," he states meekly. The younger man's expression seems to lighten.

"You didn't!"

Brian thinks that maybe he's found the right approach to earning forgiveness.

"Forgive me?" he asks softly.

Someone cries out, "Five minutes 'til curtain!"

Stewie stands quickly, pressing his hands against Brian's chest and leaning in until there are only inches worth of space between their faces. A flicker of a smile plays upon his lips. "I forgave you this morning. Mainly because Lois thought I shouldn't."

"Really?" Brian blurts excitedly. If he still had a tail, it'd be wagging so hard it would be in danger of detaching and flying off.

"Of course, Fleabag," replies Stewie, smirking, moving apart from him. A member of the cast happens to be passing by and hearing the unusual choice of endearment she shoots Brian a repulsed look, possibly believing that he really is infested with fleas. Stewie laughs at this, but then his countenance sobers. "But we're going to have to talk when we get home," he continues.

Brian nods. "I understand. We-"

Xan walks briskly by and tugs at Stewie's elbow. "Stu! Chop-chop, huh?"

"Yes, yes, I'll be right there," Stewie hisses at him. To Brian, he shrugs his shoulders. "Showtime." He grins. "I've got to go. Unless you want your show to suck."

"'Unless I want it to suck'?! You said that it was sure to be a smash!"

"Something can suck and still be a smash. Never underestimate the intelligence of the American public. You and I know the script is unadulterated tripe, but it wasn't _written _for you and me. And if this production doesn't suck tonight, it will be no thanks to the material." Stewie snorts and gives his best diva toss of the head. "It will be because I am now the star. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a show to do."

* * *

It is the first time that Brian has been able to sit all the way through the musical and recognize its merit.

Brian is in the front row, sandwiched between Xan and a man- one of Xan's teachers at NYU- who is the director of this musical. He is transfixed by the spectacle unfolding itself in front of him. It is every bit the same piece of deliberately, flamboyantly flippant hokum he's seen performed at rehearsals and at the preview shows. But something about Stewie's words has stuck with him. Often, when Stewie says cruel things in a conversational tone, it's because they're not nearly as cruel as they seem.

It occurs to Brian that Stewie probably doesn't give a damn about artistic integrity. And that's cool with Brian. What he's currently watching on stage isn't the product of disrespect for his book. Not that he's idiot enough to think that anyone _does _respect it (especially Stewie), it's just that that wasn't the aim. In Xan and Stewie and the others' minds, they've been making a musical for the mainstream public. Neither a highbrow satire or affectedly artistic, as Brian had assumed it would be, the tone and context are as graspable as the simplistic writing style Brian routinely employs when writing.

However, that _won't _be his style anymore, damnit! He's grateful to be done with the play now, so he can get back to his dream of penning the next great American novel.

Brian can't stop smiling as he watches Stewie chewing up the scenery up there on stage. When Brian had said that Stewie being required to miss some of the rehearsals would affect his chemistry with the rest of the cast, he was right. Stewie isn't their comrade-in-arms; he's their commanding officer, despite his character's lower rank. And that actually works better in the context of this production. While all the actors deliver their lines and hit their marks satisfactorily, Stewie pulls out all the stops and runs away with the show. He's magnetic when he speaks his dialogue, and in his cocky, spirited musical numbers when he takes his (fake!) rifle, throws it up in the air, behind his head, and uses it like a walking stick.

"_We trudge cross the bleak unknown landscape_

_The worst effing day of our lives_

_We can't escape the death sentence that's placed above our heads…"_

The actors continue to sing and dance in their campy fashion.

The musical ends right before the final battle, brazenly ignoring the conclusion of Brian's novel, in which only Stewie's character and two other soldiers turn out to have survived.

When it's all over, the audience explodes into applause, people rise out of their seats, giving the show a standing ovation. The cast comes back out to take their bows. Xan joins them on stage and hands Stewie a bouquet of roses. Stewie pumps the fist clenching the flowers into the air. With his free hand he points at the bouquet, then directly into the crowd at his mate, mouthing to Brian, _this is for you._

The noise, the people around them either on stage or in the house, the cheers and clapping and flurry of activity, the triumphant smiles the people connected with the production exchange with each other, the appreciative smiles that pass back and forth between the members of the audience…Brian and Stewie are blind and deaf to all of it. In an atmosphere that (as the best nights at the theatre always create) is full of fellowship to everybody else, they'll remember this moment as a purely private one that belongs only to them.

Until it is interrupted when a loud moan rents the air.

Every eye in the theatre gradually turns toward the woman who was lying in the aisle beside the third row, clutching her rounded stomach with one hand and the hand of a man who kneels next to her with the other. A group of people piles out of their seats and stands around her; she grimaces as she doubles over in pain.

A red-headed lady that is part of the small cluster flanking her shouts in a voice that is unmistakably Lois's, "Oh, my God, she's going into labor! Peter, call an ambulance!"

_To be continued…_

**Reviews nurture my creativity and expedite updates! Please Review :D **

**P.S. I've got a name for Meg's baby, but anyone want to name Brian and Stewie's new pet?**


	11. Chapter 11

**It's funny when you get to the last chapter of a story and you know exactly what you want to happen, so you think it'll only take about a minute to write. And then something like this happens. Blame it on my laziness and procrastination and getting caught up in the holiday hubbub. I really do apologize for the wait. :( **

**You guys have been wonderful! Thanks for all the great suggestions for cat names, too!**

**Disclaimer: I do not, never have, and never will own Family Guy.**

"…so cute!"

"Have you ever in your life seen anything so precious?"

"Aw, look at him stretching!"

Brian comes up behind the rest of the Griffins who encircle the bassinet, peeking in at the new little member of their family who so absorbs all their attention. He makes a face. "Well, this is exciting," he grumbles sarcastically. "Are you all planning on standing here all night marveling at this little one? He's not even all that cute; look how scraggly and scrawny he is!" Earning a hard glare from Stewie.

"Yeah, really!" Meg sides with Brian, endeavoring to sit up more fully in her hospital bed. "Doesn't anyone want to look at my child?! And get that cat out of my baby's bassinet! It's unsanitary."

Stewie harrumphs and picks up the sleeping kitty, who meows drowsily and bunts his head against Stewie's chin. The adorableness of it wrings the reddish brown-haired young man's heart. He clamps his free hand over his chest and gives Brian a look to mean, _OMG, can you believe how sweet he is?! [insert squeal here]_

His mate returns it with a look that suggests he is not equally as smitten with the kitten. He proceeds to where Dean is sitting in a chair cradling a human infant in his arms. The new father sighs happily.

"Brewstopher Ron Albert."

Stewie grins inwardly as Brian tries to suppress the cringe that arises involuntarily upon hearing that ghastly name. "May I?" asks the former dog. Dean nods, and Brian gently takes the baby from him. Holding the first offspring of Dean and Meg carefully to his chest, he goes and stands back over by Stewie.

"Named for all my brothers," Meg reminds them, smiling warmly, especially at Brian.

"Uh, er, thanks," mutters the former dog. "I'm honored."

Brewstopher Ron's an ordinary baby; he doesn't look like a troll as Peter envisaged. Nor is he humongous like Chris was at birth (Stewie's seen pictures), although inasmuch as Dean is more than chunky, genetics dictated that the kid could've turned out that way. Brewstopher is pink-skinned and black haired, and has inherited Lois's and Meg's nose. His eyes are open and hold all the usual vacuity of infants, leading Stewie to deduce that this family hasn't somehow produced another genius baby.

The cat is starting to claw at Stewie shoulders, indicating that he wants down. Stewie places him once more in Brewstopher's bassinet.

Lois moves toward Brian and proffers a finger to the baby in his arms; Brewstopher grasps it in one of his tiny fists and Lois beams at him affectionately. "What a little miracle this one is, huh?" she observes in a quiet voice to Brian.

Brian smirks and quips with gentle mockery, "I believe it's called 'biology', Lois."

Lois scoffs and transfers her attention back to the baby, pretending to try to jiggle her finger free. Her newest grandson responds by wrapping his other fist around it. Lois chuckles, enthralled. It gets on Stewie's nerves, somewhat, to see Lois playing the archetypical doting grandmother. _Of course, people always treat their grandchildren better than their own children._

"Your show tonight was spectacular, Brian," says Lois. "Congratulations."

Brian blushes at her praise. "Oh, I had very little to do with it. Most of my ides didn't make it in.'

"Don't be so modest. Your book, what you wrote, inspired what we saw today, and brought entertainment and joy to the whole audience. You have every cause to be proud of yourself."

Stewie watches them warily through the one eye he has cracked open as he leans tiredly against the wall. Lois is such a phony, too, being nice to Brian's face while she trash talks him behind his back, and attempts to convince Stewie to leave him. Of course, Stewie wouldn't have stood for her dealing Brian open hostility, but she doesn't have to overdo it, either, with the sugar substitute- it's so detectably not the real thing, that it leaves a bad taste on Stewie's tongue.

His eyes narrow; now he thinks of it, it's unusual for Lois to be pouring out the flattery and smiling quite so much around Brian since he started going out with her son. With the exception of Christmas Eve when Stewie'd walked in on her flirting with the dog-turned-man (a circumstance he can only make sense of by assuming that Lois was somehow testing Brian. For the benefit of her son's or her own interests Stewie isn't sure. Either way she'd overstepped her bounds: though one motivation is decidedly more odious). It's been Lois's custom lately to be only cordial to Brian, nothing more.

Another inexplicable thing is that the Fat Man has been looking at Brian peculiarly ever since they arrived at the hospital.

"Stewie, get him out of there!" Meg cries again, referring to the kitty in the bassinet. The ginger-haired young man rolls his eyes. He bends to retrieve his pet once more; the feline knows what he is about to do, and squints at him conceitedly. Stewie smirks, delighted with him. "Sorry," he murmurs to the little cat, collecting him from the baby's bed.

"Chris and Camille bought us that, and they're waiting out in the hall right now so that you could come in first, even though you and Brian only got us balloons," Meg points out, sounding like even more of a whiny pain in the ass than normal, although of course everybody supposes she's allowed to today, seeing as she just had a baby. "And now you're getting it full of cat hair. Why did you bring him here, anyway?"

"Well, we can just go, then," Stewie replies snottily. They've been at the hospital for hours, now, anyway: the sky outside the windows is jet black. He is far too macho to fess up to being so anxious to see his long-wanted cat that he forced Brian to stop at the apartment before they came here. The adorable little creature would've been just fine on his own: Stewie's wonderful man had gotten everything for him, food, toys, a litter box. But Stewie just couldn't _resist _taking kitty along.

"And C squared can have their turn to visit the Christ child. Anyway, Father seems to like our gift."

En route to the hospital, they'd picked up a bunch of 'It's a boy!' and 'Congratulations!' Mylar balloons, as well as a character one that was blue and shaped like a baby bottle, with weighted-down legs so you walk it around. Peter has it next to him and can't stop staring at it.

"We're going to be bestest friends," he tells the balloon character, with as much joy in his eyes as the proud new parents have for their baby.

* * *

Almost the next thing Stewie knows, Brian is nudging him awake. The cab is idling in front of their apartment building. Stewie gives a prodigious yawn. There is a light, warm pressure in his lap where the kitten is curled up, dozing again himself. Brian pays the driver and hoists the cat into one arm, pulling the other around Stewie as they emerge from the vehicle.

Inside their apartment, Brian deposits the cat on the living room floor and they guide each other into the bedroom. Stewie has been leaning on Brian since getting out of the taxi, more than the other man is on him. Stewie welcomes the support because he is _knackered. _Brian is rather bleary-eyed too, but Stewie knows that the former dog is still fueled by the pleasant surprise of _Theatre of War _going off so well earlier, and that spark has been getting him through the night standing up.

The need for sleep preempts the need to talk about what happened last night, and even the need for glorious makeup sex. They sluggishly peel off their clothes and crawl into bed in their underwear, holding each other tightly beneath the covers, hardly managing to get settled in each other's arms before plunging headlong into a sound sleep.

* * *

Stewie wakes up to the slamming of the apartment door and Brian yelling, "Damn cat!" Shortly thereafter, the blonde man appears in the bedroom doorway, gripping a bakery box in his hands, and the kitten running in and out between his legs.

"Oh, Brian, don't step on him!" cautions Stewie.

"Well, come pick him up, then, before I stumble over him and our breakfast winds up on the floor!" Brian snaps back. Stewie produces a drawn-out sigh and shoves the bedcovers aside.

He lifts the little kitty from under the arms and holds it out in front of him, staring it in its furry, different-color-eyed face. "Now, now, baby, you come and sit with me. _Yes," _Stewie coos.

Brian, watching this display, mentions snidely, "Ugh. I think I just lost my appetite." He draws the younger man's notice to the box of baked goods. "I bought us danish, and now I'm going to go make some coffee-"

Stewie kisses the cat on his nose.

Brian continues, "Are you joining me for breakfast, or are you going to stay here and make love to that cat?"

"Oh, Brian, you know I don't like pussies _that way_," Stewie returns with a salacious smirk. He takes the cat over to the bed and lays him in the middle of the pile of sheets.

"Have you given that thing a name yet?" questions Brian, as he fills the carafe at the kitchen sink and uses it to pour water into the back of the coffeemaker.

Stewie climbs on top of his bar stool. "I've got it narrowed down to a few. I'll share them with you now, and then you can tell me what you think…?"

"Sure. Let's hear 'em. Although I have to tell ya, it might all just be a waste of time. I'll probably just end up calling it 'cat', anyway." Brian passes Stewie a pastry and a napkin, then takes the same for himself.

"'Him', Brian, not 'it'. Anywho…_ahem_," Stewie clears his throat. "Winston," he suggests.

"Ah. So apparently cats _do _have other uses besides coughing up hairballs and giving people the evil eye. Ours is also our butler," is Brian's sarcastic response, his lip twitching around his mouthful of Danish.

Stewie frowns and nibbles on the sweetened dough of his own breakfast. "Well, what say you to King Tut? After all, ancient Egyptians worshipped cats, so it's fitting …No, wait- Marc Anthony! That's even better. How about Marc Anthony, Brian?"

Brian looks at him in dismay. "I'm glad you're not insisting on King Tut, because there's no way in hell that furball's being given any name with a royal title in it," he growls. "And I would hate to have for us to have a long, drawn-out argument about it. But why do _you _think Marc Anthony is a better name?" he asks curiously.

Stewie blushes. "I'm a sucker for a good love story. Not to mention high-drama eyeliner. Have you seen _Cleopatra _with Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton?"

"Your nephew's name is Marc," Brian reminds him.

"_Our _nephew," Stewie corrects him, smiling a little as Brian looks up, surprised at this. He taps his finger against his chin thoughtfully. "But you're quite right. I definitely do not want my cat to have the same appellation as that annoying little brat…Is that today's paper?" He can see a newspaper peeking out from under the bakery box.

A sheepish expression appears on Brian's face. He fidgets, wringing his hands on the countertop. "We've got a review in the cultural section. I've been…trying to work up the guts to read it," he acknowledges with a small, self-deprecating laugh, prying the paper from beneath the box.

Stewie immediately snatches it out of his clutches. "Well, let us go read it now," he states with resolve, dismounting his stool. Taking hold of Brian's hand, he pulls his mate off his, and leads him into the bedroom.

* * *

"Positive. Glowingly positive," Brian only-barely-more-than-whispers, shock echoing from every syllable.

Stewie raises and lowers his shoulders casually. "What did you expect? The audience loved it."

"Yeah, I know, but…" He chortles in a celebratory manner and runs his eyes along the type in the article one more time (no doubt to ensure he'd read it correctly) before laying the newspaper down off to the side of where he perches with Stewie upon the end of the bed. "This was written by somebody who critiques plays for a living…and we fooled him, too! He thought it was good!" Brian emits another laugh and pulls Stewie to him, embracing him.

"Shame on you," Stewie teases after they pull away. "Willing to sell out your vision for a good review."

"No, I'm just thankful for that review because it means you jokers didn't further tarnish my professional reputation by screwing with my vision."

There's another reason Stewie's brought Brian in here. They need to have the discussion that's been put on the backburner from the previous night. Hopefully it can be conducted in a mature manner.

"Brian…we have to talk."

His mate's smile is wiped clean off his face. He tenses; "Right…" he sighs, apprehensive but reconciled to the essentiality of hashing this out.

"We've established the validity of my anger with you the other night, but what was behind those actions of yours that _made _me angry? Last night you claimed you had no idea what made you snub me in front of J.M. and Tanya, but I remember right after it happened, you said something about being afraid of people looking at you differently. Which people, and why does it matter?" A vaguely cantankerous note enters into his tone, but Stewie does his best to sound and stay calm.

A slight guilty blush tinges Brian's complexion. "About that…I am _not _ashamed of you. Like I said, I'm ashamed of myself. Of the…impulse I had to hide our relationship from my ex-wife and J.M. when we met them at the gallery. Stewie…you know that I don't give a shit what strangers think, but with people who knew me before…." his voice tapers off and he looks at the young man next to him ruefully.

"I could just hear J.M. making some smart-ass remark to Tanya as soon as they were out of earshot, if they knew about us. Saying that it was no wonder she had to turn to him for '_satisfaction'_, as clearly women aren't my cup of tea." Brian opines bitterly.

He continues: "Peter's been my best friend for years. I didn't want him to start acting differently around me. He knows me as a certain guy, and I didn't want him to feel like after all this time, he didn't really know me at all. Or betrayed, because I'm dating his son."

Brian pauses for a beat.

"Worst case scenario, he'll react like Lois. Best case scenario, he'll just be incredibly immature about it. I don't need for things to be strained with my best friend, too," Brian explains dispiritedly. "But," he continues, staring at Stewie's eyes, "he probably _does_ need to know. I'll tell him the next time I speak to him."

Stewie feels that inconvenient upwelling of sympathy one experiences when the feelings of somebody you love have become as important as your own. He remains irked by the brush-off, but he also remembers how he himself struggled when it became evident that his romantic life wouldn't be like most other individuals'. And _he _had known from an early age that he was gay, thus he'd had more time to get used to it. But Brian had never anticipated having a partner of the same sex.

Stewie coughs. There's just one other thing…

"And the irrational jealousy? Were you simply grasping for an excuse to be mad at me, since I was mad at you?"

Brian looks down at the mattress. "No…" The erstwhile dog opens his mouth and shuts it, he does not seem to know where to begin. Ultimately, he takes a breath and opens with, "Remember that dinner that you had with Xan?"

Stewie bobs his head in the affirmative.

"I didn't find out about until after the fact." Brian doesn't say it accusingly, exactly, simply in a manner that implies he is endeavoring to defend his own version of the event.

"Naturally," Stewie replies, his mouth thinning. "What else? We ran into one another on the street, and he asked if I was hungry. I was not aware that I was required to call and ask you if it was okay before I consented." He concludes sardonically.

"You…don't…I didn't…"

Stewie shakes his head. "You know that this is about _you _and not me? You know that, right?" He asks sternly. "This is _your_ issue."

Brian clumsily runs his hand through his white-blond hair, his eyes clouding over.

"Everyone whom I've loved I've…lost out on to somebody else. All those years ago I laid my heart on the line for Lois…a few times…and inevitably, she would chose to stay with Peter. Jillian- do you remember her?- I interrupted her freakin' wedding, for Christ sake, and she rejected me and went ahead and married her fiancé. My wife cheated on me with another man." Brian pauses. He looks so withdrawn and insecure, his shoulders slouched forward protectively.

"And there were others who broke my heart, too. If _you _did…if _you're _the one who breaks it this time…I won't be able to put it back together."

"You're only twenty-two. You're so young to be settling down. How can you be sure that this is what you're going to want for the rest of your life? That…" he swallows. "that _I'm who _you're going to want for the rest of your life?"

Stewie heaves a sigh. "Alright. Listen and listen well, you dolt. I've waited nearly my whole life to be with you. And while so often when we get what we want, the reality fails to live up to our dreams, ever since _this_,' he motions at them both, "happened, it's _surpassed _them. In every way. I love you, and my love for you will last forever. I just know. Don't you just know?"

Their gazes lock. Stewie tries to transmit with his something that says Brian's old baggage is no longer relevant to his, their, current situation. That all the promises of love and understanding of intention that were there the night they'd first become a couple are still there.

Brian's mouth stretches into a smile, slow and warm like the melting chocolate Stewie's always mentally compared the former dog's eyes to. He captures Stewie's hand and laces their fingers together. "Yes. From the bottom of my heart, I know. This is the relationship that's going to make it."

Stewie links his arms around Brian's neck and rests his head on the older man's shoulder. "Good. Glad we got that settled."

All their talking has evidently been disturbing their kitten's rest. With a teed off meow, he jumps from the bed to the floor and stalks out of the room.

"Garou," Stewie says, the name popping into his head from nowhere.

"What?"

"Garou is the French Canadian singer who played Quasimodo in the original

Musical of _the Hunchback of Notre Dame_," the younger man informs him. "And I must say, those dulcet tones of his give me tingles in my naughty places," he finishes with a lusty sigh.

"Hmmm…He played Quasimodo you said? I can see why that name would come to mind looking at that cat, then…Yes, I approve."

Stewie automatically pinches him on the arm and Brian utters an 'ow', probably also automatic, because Stewie didn't do it that hard.

"So," says Stewie, clapping his hands together once and eying his love expectantly. "Make up sex?"

"Absolutely make up sex," Brian agrees, and kisses him hard.

* * *

Post coitus, they lie in bed facing each other, exchanging light, tender touches; with the backs of his fingers, Brian strokes Stewie's arm up to his shoulder and back down again while Stewie traces random, imaginary shapes on Brian's chest.

The peacefulness of their divine afterglow is broken by a loud pounding on the door of their apartment. Stewie makes a lazy, reluctant noise and lifts his head for a second, listening. He relaxes it back down against the pillow with a sigh. "We are indisposed." Leaning forward and pressing his lips to Brian's.

The knocking stubbornly continues, though, and after a bit his mate ends the kiss. Brian shifts onto his elbows, straining his head toward the door, the muscles in his neck taut and his ears practically perk up, canine-esque. It can be heard that whoever is knocking seems to have redoubled their efforts, now using both of their fists to beat on the door.

"Sounds like they really need something," notes Brian.

"Well bloody hell, go answer it then! The building could be on fire or something!"

"I didn't hear any alarm going off," Brian mutters. Stepping into his underwear, he then wraps his red tartan robe around himself and lumbers off to answer the still-clamorous knocking at the door.

Stewie purses his lips. He sees that his slacks have landed near the bed and so pulls them on, following Brian into the living room.

Brian stands at the door and calls out, "Who is it?"

"It's me, Brian, open the hell up!" comes Peter's voice from the other side. He sounds on edge. Brian glances over his shoulder at Stewie, who's directly behind him. "Come on, let me in already!" Peter whines. Brian's cheeks pinken in subtle discomfiture and indecisiveness. Stewie raises both eyebrows at him as if to say, _well, what are you going to do?"_

He opens the door a crack. "Um, Peter can you-"

Peter pushes past them into the apartment, not pausing to notice their attire. "Am I glad you guys are home! I've really got to fire one out-"

Lois quietly meanders in after him. "Hello, boys…"

"What are you doing here?" Stewie asks, glaring at her. Although she comforted him after he'd ran out on Brian at the gallery the night before last, she'd done it with her own agenda in mind, too. Why, she'd told him that 'it might be better to just let Brian go'! Her exact words! She simply didn't want him to be happy! His own mother at that, and she didn't want him to be happy! It was despicable. "How did you get in?"

"An elderly man downstairs in the lobby let us in," Lois explains. "He didn't look like he was quite…_'all there'. _That's not very safe," she advises them.

It is on the tip of Stewie's tongue to reply with something along the vein of, 'You're telling me, all sorts of undesirables can gain entry to the building! _Like you.' _But he bites his tongue. Stewie is a grown man who does not need to be scolded by his mother, and he'll heroically strive to keep relations civil today, as they've had enough drama lately.

So he only says blandly, "Thanks for the tip, Mother, but I don't see that there's much we can do about the situation."

In the background, a toilet flushes.

"Well, we've come to say goodbye," Lois informs them a little regretfully. "And for my part…" She sighs and locks eyes with her son. She gives him a contrite smile. "I wanted to give you my blessing. I know you didn't ask for it, and it may not matter that much to you, but I thought you might like to hear your mother acknowledge that she's been, in every respect, mistaken about your relationship with Brian. I see now how right you are for each other, and that he loves you very much." Transferring that same smile to Brian, before looking back at Stewie. "I'm sorry about my behavior. I guess I was just being an overprotective mother." She moves forward to hug him, then holds back, smiling knowingly. "Hmmm, I can see you were in the middle of something…" She prods him teasingly in his unclothed chest with her fingernail.

Stewie bats her away like he would an irksome fly. He wishes she wouldn't look at him like that. He is totally flummoxed, unable to imagine what in the hell could have effected this reversal of opinion from Lois; she'd been dead set against him being with Brian little over twenty-four hours ago. To go from that to being able to tease about their romantic activities so easily…

He casts an inquisitive glance at Brian.

"Um…guys?" asks Peter, reappearing in the living room at that moment, his face blanched. "I, uh, I've got kind of a confession to make…" His eyes are on the ceiling. "After I dumped my load, as it was, I kinda, sorta…was being nosy and…took a look-see into the bedroom, and…You've only got one bed in there."

Nobody says anything.

"And the sheets are all messed up. And there's a bottle of anal lubricant left out on the nightstand," Peter persists, his voice becoming louder and more rushed as he goes on. He hazards a look at Brian, as though begging his longtime friend to deny that Peter could have seen such things. And Stewie would be willing to bet that if Brian _did _tell Peter that it must have been a mirage or something, Peter would readily and thankfully believe him.

Brian nods numbly.

"O-kaaay," Peter mutters, his eyes finally latching onto the V of bare chest revealed above the sash of Brian's robe, and Stewie's entirely shirtless condition. "And I can see now that you're…both half naked…."

Once again, Brian answers.

"Yup."

Stewie folds his arms across his upper body to hide the nipples he's just noticed are starting to stiffen and point. He shivers. _The heat needs to be turned up in here…_

"And Brian…the other day before you left our hotel you said something about how you've been seeing someone…someone who was a _'he'._ I wondered whether I had misheard you…but I didn't, did I?"

"You did not."

"So is it true?" demands Peter, his voice unfathomable. "You two-" he points at Brian, then Stewie, "are a couple now?"

"Yes, Peter." Said- Stewie has to give him credit- with strength, certitude, and a total lack of shame by Brian.

Peter is silent for a long moment. A type of stillness falls upon the room, Stewie included. The auburn-haired young man wants acceptance only for Brian's sake, but he is curious how his father will take this.

"Well, that's great!" Peter enthuses, grinning back and forth between Stewie and Brian.

Stewie's arms fall limply to his sides in shock, his eyebrows making a rapid trip far up his forehead. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses how Brian and Lois have taken this unexpected reaction from the Fat Man. Both of their mouths hang open in twin dumbfounded expressions.

"Huh?" asks Lois tonelessly.

"Well, why not?" counters Peter with a broad shrug. "Who better for Stu to date than a standup guy like Brian? And now that I think about it, they _do _suit each other. They're both really smart fellas, and Brian's just about the only one can put up with Stu for extended periods of time-"

Stewie huffs and scowls indignantly.

"And they already know everything about each other, so they knew what they were getting into before they got together. That bodes well for long-term relationship," Peter continues.

Stewie blinks at his father very rapidly. "Well. My word. The most sensible interpretation of our relationship and it comes from the Fat Man. Who'd have thought?"

"Stu!" rebukes Lois. Apparently, he _does_ still need to be scolded by his mother.

Grinning ear-to-ear, Peter offers Brian a handshake. "Welcome to the family, pal! Or…ya know, I guess you joined it a long-ass time ago…have a good, er, time still being in it…and, um, here's a fresh welcome!" He phrases awkwardly.

Brian grins back, looking for all the world as though he's just gotten a death row reprieve or something.

"I mean, it _does _strike me as weird just because you used to chase all that hot bimbo tail," Peter allows, pulling on his shirt collar a little. "But, hey, it's your life. If you suddenly get a hankering for some man-love, I say go for it. You just be good to him, and I don't care if you're sleeping with my son…" He stops talking for a moment, then asks Brian in a conspiratorial tone, "What's that like, by the way?"

Lois screeches, appalled, "Peter! That's sick! Are you actually asking Brian what it's like to sleep with _your son_?!"

"What?! No! Lois, ew, you're-you are _warped. _That is-that is _twisted_," Peter declares, screwing up his features in disgust. "No! What I meant was," he applies to Brian, "Lois doesn't let me use the backdoor too often, if you know what I mean, so I was just wondering what it was like to get to use it all the time." His expression wholly innocent now.

"Oh my God," groans Brian, looking nauseated.

"Indeed. I shall have to build an amnesia ray to erase the last part of this conversation from my memory," Stewie mutters.

Before Peter and Lois leave, the former half-turns at the door and says, "I just want to make it clear that since Stu's a guy, I'm not paying for any wedding. Not my responsibility." He thinks for a split second. "Or is it? Stu, are you the woman in this relationship, because if you are I don't know if-"

"Goodnight, Fat Man!" Stewie screams, his face burning in anger and embarrassment. Putting all his weight into it, he gives his father a push all the way out of the apartment. Stewie tacks onto his irate adieu a, "Drive safe!", then slams the door and makes sure he locks it firmly.

Stewie drops down beside Brian where he has gone and sat on the sofa. "So you went to my parents' hotel yesterday and an interview with my mother has somehow begotten today's modus vivendi. Care to tell me how _that _happened?"

Brian turns toward him, reaching up and cradling the younger man's cheek in his palm. The gesture and the cherishing note in the blonde's voice when he starts to speak has Stewie looking forward to hearing something nice and romantic.

"Just explained to her again that I loved you. I cleverly pointed out that only the very strongest love could make me put up with you. But I think what finally persuaded her was when she offered me a bottle of schnapps from the minibar and I refused because I was counting on seeing you later," Brian says, his lip developing a mischievous tic. "I turned down liquor for you, and she recognized what that meant. I hope you do, too."

"Oh hardy-har-har," Stewie sneers, pouting. "You are just the worst sort of person."

"Say Stewie, there's something that I've been wondering, too…" Brian brings up. "Your mother asked me something at Christmas; about whether you'd found work yet. But you'd already been at Kureno Industries for months. Why didn't you tell her about your job?"

Stewie partially frowns out of the corner of his mouth. "Embarrassed, I suppose. You see…I spent my entire life wanting to show everybody- Lois in particular- that I could surmount my working class roots and attain levels success beyond what their puny minds were capable of imagining. But look at my life now- it's so _ordinary!_ It seems I can 'talk the talk', but not 'walk the walk', as they say," he replies with a small sigh.

"Stewie, that's stupid. You shouldn't have to be ashamed of anything that makes you happy."

Stewie doesn't need to call him a hypocrite again; all it takes is an arch of the eyebrow to make Brian realize what he just said. The blond blushes.

"It doesn't _really _make me happy. I kind of want to quit." Reflexively, he laughs a little. "It's _fine_, but it's not fulfilling. I can't forsake my ambitions…even if I don't know precisely what they are at the moment. _Cosmo _taught me that I can have it all: if I've got the man of my dreams, then why not the career of my dreams, too?"

Brian nods. "I understand. I've been having those thoughts, too. I would like to get started on another novel- the one I've always meant to write, something powerful and profound. But I need some inspiration for it…Stewie, remember how we said that we'd visit every country someday? Well, how about we get started on that now?"

Stewie turns sidewise on the couch, tucking his legs up under him so that he's sitting facing Brian completely. "We can't just pack up and leave!" the young auburn-haired man exclaims, taken aback. "We have a life here! What about our furniture? What about Garou?"

"Well, realistically, it _could_ only be for a couple of months. We could sublet the apartment and board the cat-"

Stewie gives him a death glare and Brian hurriedly covers his ass:

"Kidding! Of course we'll take him with us. I think we can finance it, though, Stewie. Xan finally paid me the rest of the money for the adaptation rights, and you- if you agree to this plan, that is- have been saving ten percent of each paycheck in the bank, right? And I can try and pick up a freelance gig for, like, a travel magazine or something."

He adds with a wide grin: "This trip could be good for both of us, come on, Stewie, let's take over the world! We can start anywhere- India…Spain… "

"Greece," says Stewie dreamily, catching the excitement, too. "I've always wanted to go there. I could call the airport- maybe we could get a flight tonight…"

Brian kisses him on the forehead, looking amused. "Anywhere. Everywhere. And nowhere at all. The road to nowhere."

Stewie smiles. "And that's good enough for me."

The future stretches before them, their course no less cause for optimism for being uncharted. Their home, their destiny is anyplace they are together.

_Fin_

**Note: Dean's last name is Albert because the dean at my old school was called Dean Albert. :P Lol, get it?**

**Winning name courtesy of Brooke Summer Valentine. :D**

**So that's the end of Anyplace You Are, the sequel to The Old Familiar Places! I'm halfway tempted to write a sequel to the sequel, but…Argh! I don't know yet…doesn't it have to end at some point?**

**I'm not sure how much more I can do in this fandom. I'm going to finish up Years of Our Family, and then I have another Brewie story in the works, which will make an appearance once the previously alluded to fic is done. Look for it if you're interested!**


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